


A Family's Bond

by CyberWolfWrites



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Italian Peter Parker, Italian Tony Stark, Mentioned Skip Westcott, Orphan Harley Keener, Orphan Peter Parker, Orphans, Protective Harley Keener, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberWolfWrites/pseuds/CyberWolfWrites
Summary: "Why does he hit us?" Peter whispered one night a few months after he entered the foster system, cuddling up to his brother on the top bunk of the bed they shared.  Harley rolled over and met Peter's big brown doe eyes.  Peter was only a month or so younger than Harley, but the kid looked like, well, a kid.  He was short and scrawny and had the most adorable set of eyes that only one person seemed immune to, their foster father.  Harley didn't have the adorable factor that Peter seemed to possess, instead, he was a few inches taller and lanky and had cold blue eyes that appeared dead to the world.  Harley closed his eyes and sighed."Because he can," Harley said in a voice that relayed that he was simply tired.  Not the sleepy kind of tired, just the tired-of-the-world kind of tired.  Harley had been in the system since he was eleven.  Peter had gotten in two years ago when he was thirteen.  Both of their families had been murdered (Harley's by aliens and Peter's by your common mugger).  It had been one of the first things they morbidly bonded over, other than the abusive foster dad, of course.(And the secret vigilanteism because apparently both were bit by a spider at Oscorp.)
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 134
Kudos: 406





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Different Take](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574596) by [CyberWolfWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberWolfWrites/pseuds/CyberWolfWrites). 



> I hope you like the first chapter of "A Family's Bond!" If you have any questions or suggestions, or if you want to hash out any confusing details, let me know!

* * *

"Peter, Harley, could you stay back for a few minutes?" Mrs. Warren asked after the bell rang. Peter and Harley shared nervous glances, slowly putting their ratty notebooks and cheap pencils away as the rest of the class filed out. Flash sent a smirk in Peter's way, certain that they were in trouble for something, but knew better than to be caught by Harley. While Peter wouldn't defend himself due to his powers, Harley was a scrappy motherfucker and had no qualms about doing so, even if he possessed the same powers Peter did.

"U-Um, Mrs. Warren? What's this about?" Peter asked nervously when it was just the three of them left in the room. He unconsciously slid closer to Harley so that his shoulder was pressed against his pseudo-brother's. While Harley was only two months older than Peter, he provided a constant safe presence for him. The fact that Harley originally took the brunt for most of Peter's beatings at Dan's also added to his safety factor.

Mrs. Warren smiled softly at them both and held out a packet, Peter grabbing it while Harley peered over his shoulder since he was taller than him. "A Stark Internship competition?" Peter asked, the more vocal of the two, looking up from the page in confusion. "Wh-What about it, Mrs. Warren?"

"I was told to pick a few students in my class who I think could win the internship. You two should compete," the woman said kindly, watching as the surprise flit over their faces, and then the apprehension. She cut them off before they could begin to protest. "It would be a great opportunity for you both and the email said that a team of two students can compete together with the chance that they both can get the internship. You two have permission to use the school workshop to build your projects like the other participants."

Peter fiddled with his hoodie sleeves, looking back at Harley. The boy kept his face studiously blank but Peter, having known his brother for almost two years now, knew that he was excited about the prospect of competing by the way he leaned forward, his eyes a smidge wider than normal.

"Will we have to get our own materials?" Harley questioned quietly, his voice level without any of Peter's stuttering and wavers.

Mrs. Warren nodded sympatheticaly, watching the way they both deflated in defeat. "Things like screws and wires or using the schools' computers and printers are fine, but you'll have to get everything else."

Peter fiddled with the edge of the participation form as he looked over the front page. The thing that stood out the most was the guardian signature line. Maybe their foster father would sign it? He did mention something about the two of them being worthless the other day... Maybe Dan will stop pestering them if they won. He somehow doubted it.

"You don't have to give me an answer right away," Mrs. Warren tacked on at their hesitation. "Think it over with your foster father, see if you can get the supplies you need. The competition's in a month, so you have plenty of time to think it over and work on your project." Peter and Harley exchanged glances again. Peter wanted to do the competition; he had been a fan of Tony Stark ever since he was a kid which Harley knew, but Harley was wondering if it was worth it. Would it be worth it to try and win a contest with junk materials?

We should try, Peter's eyes conveyed. Harley bit back a sigh and nodded, turning to the teacher. "We'll talk to Dan about it, Mrs. Warren," he said. "Thank you for giving this to us." Peter beamed. (Well, as much of a beam he could give since he's become much more introverted and nervous about his flamboyant attitude since May and Ben died.)

"Here, let me get you two hall passes for your next class." Mrs. Warren grabbed two passes and filled them out. Peter and Harley took them with small smiles and quiet thanks before leaving.

"Do you think he'll let us?" Peter asked quietly after a few minutes of walking. Harley didn't need to ask who Peter was talking about, he was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know," Harley told him, just as quietly. Only someone standing next to them would be able to hear their words. "Dan seemed happy when I got the scholarship here, but a competition at Stark Industries for a _chance_ to win an internship? Who knows."

Peter scowled at the ground. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Aunt May and Uncle Ben, they would have been overjoyed at the prospect of him entering the competition. Well, maybe not May. She always had something Mr. Stark, something about him almost dying at the 2010 expo or something. _But they aren't here,_ Peter thought bitterly, trying to stave off the stab of pain in his heart. It may have been two years since they both died, but the wound was still tender and hurt when poked and prodded.

"Hey," Harley said, knocking into Peter's shoulder. Peter blinked up at him with watery eyes. "Stop thinkin' whatever you're thinkin'. We gotta focus on this competition, _capisci_?" Peter's lips quirked up at the casual use of Italian and he wiped his eyes. Aunt May had taught Peter how to speak Italian when he started living with them, and when Harley caught Peter murmuring to himself in the language, he promptly demanded Peter to teach him.

It was a way to pass the time while at the apartment. Dan worked long hours as a stockbroker and often didn't get off work until seven or eight at night, leaving the two of them alone for four to five hours. Of course, some of that time was spent Spider-Manning in their respective parts of New York, but they still had chores and homework to do, especially since Dan set an early curfew.

Peter going around the apartment telling Harley the Italian words for such and such was an easy way to spend time, as well as a way to remember Aunt May in a way that wasn't through flashbacks or nightmares. It was the exact same way May taught Peter Italian in the beginning after his parents died. She did it as a way to get Peter to crawl out of his shell and to forget his new orphan status for a while.

" _Sì, capisco_ ," Peter murmured, stopping beside the door for his classroom. " _Ci vediamo nella falegnameria con Ned_." Harley blinked with a blank look on his face and Peter mock-sighed heavily in amusement.

"Um, what? I understood the 'see you in' and the 'with Ned' part, but what's fale-whatever?"

"You didn't pay attention when I went over our schedules in Italian, did you?" Harley just smiled sheepishly. " _Falegnameria_ more or less means woodworking. I'll see you in woodshop with Ned."

" _Grazie. Ciao_ ," Harley chirped before walking off. Peter stared after him for a few seconds in confustion. That was... odd to say the least.

"Mr. Parker, as much as I admire your ability to speak Italian, this is Spanish class and you're late." Peter definitely did _not_ yelp when he spun around to see Señor Mendez standing in the doorway with an unimpressed expression.

" _Lo siento, Señor_ ," Peter apologized, easily switching to Spanish as he held out his hall pass. "I got held up in Physics." Señor Mendez just hummed and took the slip of paper, waving Peter off to his seat. With his enhanced hearing, he could hear Harley snickering down the hall. That jerk stalled on purpose.

* * *

"Hey, look what I got!" Ned crowed as soon as Harley and Peter walked into the workshop. Some of the machines were already running and the scent of wood, wood stainer, and various cleaners and oils were burning their noses. Fighting off a sneezing fit by holding his shirt over his nose (an instinct from when he had asthma), Peter looked at what Ned was holding.

"Oh!" he exclaimed with a smile. "You got one, too!?"

"Wait, 'too'?" Ned asked before his eyes widened and he grinned back at the two of them. "You guys are competing? Sweet!"

"Yep," Harley drawled, already working on his half-finished project. Mr. Hapgood didn't really care what they did in the class, so long as they made a working thing for him to grade. Harley was making a potato gun for whatever reason and Peter was working on some sort of small electrical motor. While both were geniuses when working with technology, Harley was the lazier of the two and preferred to make fun silly things instead of something that could be beneficial. Mr. Hapgood also didn't have a preference for what they made, so that was a win.

"What do you plan on making?" Peter asked Ned, suddenly recalling that he had no idea what he and Harley were going to build.

Ned shrugged. "I don't know, I was kinda thinking of doing a small robot-slash-drone? Maybe code it to do simple things like search and retrieve. I figured it could be useful for the military or the police force. I know Stark Industries doesn't sell weapons anymore, but they still provide the military with body armor and tools." Peter blinked as an idea flitted through his mind and tugged a notebook out of his backpack, a pencil already in hand.

Harley and Ned peeked over his shoulder as he began frantically scribbling his ideas down. It was a common thing for Peter to do if he suddenly got an idea and didn't want to forget it. His web formula stemmed from doing the same exact thing.

Harley squinted as he read Peter's notes. While his brother's handwriting was usually neat, it wasn't when he was going off on half-cocked ideas. But with two years of practice, it wasn't difficult to put together what Peter was planning for their project. "That's actually a good idea," Harley hummed, impressed, already thinking of ways to add on or change what Peter's mind was currently putting together in its haste.

Peter stopped writing and looked up at Harley. "I always have good ideas," he sniffed, sounding affronted. "You're just jealous that you can't match my genius." Harley rolled his eyes at Peter's dramatics.

"Do you think something like this can work?" Harley asked after Peter finally set the pencil down and slid the notebook to him to look at. Peter's idea was simple enough, some sort of biometric cloth device that could catalog any injury you sustain while wearing it, as well as reading vitals. It was obvious that he was thinking more toward their nighttime activities rather than soldiers, but it could work if spun that way.

Peter shrugged. "No idea, but we don't know until we try, right?" he asked. "It's gonna be a little difficult trying to get the supplies, but the coding is more or less simple, I think? I-I don't really know, you're the better coder out of the two of us. We should base it on some sort of pressure sensor. The hard part would be knowing how much strength would equal which injury and where, though."

Harley slowly nodded. Something like this would be very helpful to the people protecting them. It wasn't uncommon to find out someone got injured on the field and didn't mention it until hours after the fact. Harley was thinking of Peter, of course. At least he himself was smart enough not to hide serious injuries like stab wounds or fractured ribs. Peter? Not so much.

"It can't be all metal if it's going to be embedded in cloth, too," he added onto Peter's statement. "The wires will need to be pretty thick or covered in a hard but flexible material. Maybe shaped like the bendy part on straws."

"The cloth has to be lightweight, too..." Peter trailed off, eyes going slightly hazy as he got lost in his thoughts. His webbing was lightweight but it was also very strong and flexible, weaving it with other materials could potentially make a great fabric. The only issue was that it was sticky. He would have to fiddle with the formula. Most of the chemicals needed could more or less be found in cleaning supplies just in case he couldn't work on it in class.

* * *

It was only two days later but Peter and Harley really needed to talk to Dan about the internship competition if they wanted to finish a prototype by the end of the month. Of course, both of them didn't want to talk to him about it. First, the man hated their guts, plain and simple. And second, he was always at work, only coming back to the apartment a few hours after they got out of school. And that was Dan's downtime. Both had experience in what a mistake it was to interfere with Dan's spare time.

The only time they had to actually converse with the man was over the dinner table. The usually awkward atmosphere usually spent with Harley and Peter forcing themselves not to inhale their food even if their enhanced metabolisms begged for it.

They didn't have to worry about that tonight, however.

Peter pushed around a piece of chicken, his stomach full of nerves and tight with anxiety. The only noises there were was the sounds of breathing and chewing and their cutlery scraping against the plates.

"Spit it out." Peter and Harley both flinched at the harsh tone, Dan having spat the words out. They exchanged glances, somewhat surprised and nervous to find that their foster father knew that they wanted to talk to him about something. Harley was the first to speak.

"Our Physics teacher called us after class--"

"--What did you do?" Peter cringed. The man always believed that they did something wrong.

"Nothing, sir," Harley was quick to assure the man. "She wanted to inform us about a competition at Stark Industries."

"What for?" The man's tone didn't lose the bite.

"I-It's for an, uh, internship, sir," Peter said shakily, forcing himself to breathe in steady breaths. He mirrored Harley's own breathing though his brother's heart was fluttering just as swiftly as Peter's was. "M-Mrs. Warren told us that o-only a few s-students qualified for it," he continued quietly, but loud enough for Dan to hear. He refused to meet the man's ice blue eyes as he spoke.

"And you two qualified?" Dan's words were colored with shock and the bite of his words wasn't as harsh. It hurt Peter that the man was shocked that they qualified, but he had to remind himself that this man was not nice. That this man was not Ben. That he wasn't anything like Ben was no matter how much he wished he was.

"Yes, sir," Harley continued, knowing that Peter had more trouble speaking to Dan because the man looked like someone from his past that hurt him. "The competition itself takes place on the twelfth. We're allowed to use the computers and the materials at school so we don't have to buy anything." No way in hell was either of them going to mention that they were going to have to dumpster dive for the exact parts and technology they needed. If Dan even remotely thought that they had to provide their own materials, he would've turned them down in a heartbeat.

"And you two are competing?"

"We need your signature, sir. For permission to miss class on the day of the competition and to compete. Midtown's providing a bus for all of the students competing in the competition."

It was silent for a few minutes and Peter dared a peak upwards. Dan was chewing his food slowly, looking from Harley to Peter contemplatively. Peter dropped his eyes before the man's met his.

"Okay." Peter and Harley froze in near disbelief, the latter looking at Dan in surprise. "Get the permission slip and eat your damn dinner, boys," Dan admonished. Peter didn't even flinch at the harsh use of the word boys. Hope was waging war with disbelief in his chest. They were going to compete.

* * *

The two fell asleep that night with thoughts of high-tech spider suits on their mind and hope for the first time in years.

* * *


	2. the competition

* * *

"Ugh, _puzza_ ," Harley muttered, lifting his collar over his nose. Peter wrinkled his at the disgusting smell of garbage and trash, the scent strong against the pure cold scent of snow

"Tell me about it," he murmured. "I was the one who fought here last night." Harley winced in sympathy. It was Peter's night to patrol last night and he had come home smelling like a dumpster, his suit ripped in places, and with a shallow slice on his ribs. The two typically wore their own suits that looked almost exactly alike but Peter would have to borrow Harley's until they could sew it up and get the smell out. They had agreed when they both became Spider-Man to make it appear as if there was only one Spidey unless both of them were needed to fight. It was safer. That way, if one of them managed to get kidnapped, the other could (hopefully) find them.

So, they switched nights to patrol, and last night while fighting a gang of thugs, Peter had spotted some junk electronics that had been thrown out, half-buried under the snow. Now, after school, they were scavenging for said materials in the alleyway. Peter was just glad that it hadn't snowed last night, a miracle in early January.

He toed at a box flap and kicked the box aside when the box held nothing but old newspapers. The alleyway had gotten messed up last night during the fight, trash cans toppling and boxes were strewn everywhere, various items frozen in the snow. Still, Peter knew the main vicinity of the electronics, so it was only a matter of--

" _l'ho trovato_!" Harley cried, lifting up a cardboard box of items. Peter perked up, bouncing towards the box while ignoring the pain in his side and trying not to slip on the ice. They weren't being fed nearly enough food at Dan's, so it made sense that the healing factor wouldn't be up to speed. The scab had fallen off sometime during school, but the spot was still pink and tender. The cut should have healed within a few hours, but it was half a day later and it still wasn't healed fully.

"Those look like they're in good shape," Peter said, proud that he had spotted the old DVD players and other things last night.

"I think it's unfair that I have to speak in Italian while you don't," Harley muttered, switching to English. Peter's lip twitched upward in a small smirk. The more time he spent with Harley, the more he felt like himself. Dan always forced his progress back, however, so it was rare for Peter to act confident or snarky. Especially since he would get backhanded for such behavior back at the apartment.

"You need to learn to translate somehow," Peter reminded him, heaving up the second box of materials. "This way is just easier without you having to translate my Italian to English and then forming a response from English to Italian. Now, let's get out of here before we have to burn our clothes or our toes fall off." Harley grimaced and lead the way out. They couldn't afford to lose any piece of clothing. Dan wouldn't pay for anything they needed except for food. That's why their hair was so long that Harley could actually manage to scrape his hair into a very short ponytail. Peter's curls were long enough to cover his ears and eyes. It was helpful now, though, with the way it covered his ears since it was so cold out.

It didn't take long to travel back to the apartment building and for Peter and Harley hoist up the items onto the roof before returning to the apartment to change and wash their clothes. Both boys were well versed in washing clothes and other items from their chores. It was a relief for when they had to clean their suits. Peter dumped the red hoodie and blue sweats underneath their other laundry before returning to the roof.

It had a small overhang area where they could stash stuff and it not get wet or covered in snow. Peter and Harley had built their Spider-Man related items up here in fear of Dan digging through their items and finding them. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the man to rifle through their belongings, most likely searching for things such as weed and alcohol. It was a good thing that neither Harley nor Peter were interested in drugs. They were pretty sure that it wouldn't do anything for them, anyway.

* * *

Peter grinned as he pressed down on the piece of cloth, the pressure monitor displaying how much force Peter was using easily. It worked! Their project was still bare-bones since they still had to input the amount of force that would equal a broken bone. It would be pretty difficult to code the pressure cloth for every area on the human body, so they were doing it strictly for the forearm.

Turns out it took a pretty big amount of force to break a human bone. Of course, Peter and Harley were well versed in this simply due to their extra-curricular activities. Dan wasn't one to leave long-lasting damage. The most he's hurt either Peter or Harley had been bruised and fractured ribs.

"Do you think we'll finish by next week?" Peter asked Harley, who was currently coding an app for the sensors on a custom (read: junk) made tablet.

Harley shrugged, saying, "I think we're pretty good as it is. I just didn't expect it to be this difficult to code the pressure pads to interpret different amounts of force for different injuries. We could get so much done with the resources SI has, though."

Peter chewed on his lower lip, eyebrows furrowing. Their project didn't even have the proper cloth yet and Peter had been working on different formulas for it for a week now. Most of the web solutions didn't provide good material for a strong cloth, but he managed to fashion a web that was much sturdier than their usual webs. It was less sticky, though, so Peter was thinking of using it for emergencies or making something to spin the web into a thick rope. That batch hadn't dissolved yet. He would see if he can spin threads and somehow weave cloth out of that. He's weaved something before in an art class.

The thought of using webbing as the project itself crossed his mind, but Peter didn't want to endanger himself or Harley. It wouldn't take a genius to see that the webs he'd provide would match those of Spider-Man. He could try making different webs that worked kind of like synthetic polymer. Yeah, that could work...

"What're you thinkin' 'bout?" Harley questioned Peter, knocking into his shoulder and forcing him out of his thoughts.

Peter blinked. "Oh, I was just thinking of the cloth we need," he said, shaking himself out of his worrying.

"We could just use regular cloth?" Peter shook his head.

"It would look better if we made the material ourselves."

Harley shrugged, returning to his coding. Peter pulled out a notebook to work out some more equations and to jot down ideas.

* * *

"It's gonna be fine," Harley whispered, watching as Peter jiggled his leg nervously. "We've gone over the presentation about ten times since last night. Stop worrying." He nudged his leg and Peter stopped bouncing it, only to begin fiddling with the cuff of his dress shirt instead. Harley smoothed down his own dress shirt that he borrowed from Peter. Apparently, they had been his uncle's. Their neighbor, a kind old lady who they often helped around the apartment, had tailored the shirts to fit them.

They were a little ill-fitting in some areas, the sleeves were a little too long and baggy, and the top was tight around their biceps and chest, but they looked nice enough. They didn't have any dress pants, however, so they were wearing their best pair of jeans. Harley and Peter were dressed the same and Peter thought that they looked a lot alike as if they were actual brothers. Well, they would if Harley would keep his shirt tucked like his was.

The thought of them looking like brothers made him happy. Peter had always wanted a sibling when he was younger, and although it was under poor circumstances, he finally had one. And he wasn't gonna let him go. Ever.

Peter and Harley looked over at the lab doors simultaneously as they opened, revealing one of the two faces of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts. "Alright, everyone!" the woman called out, gaining the attention of everyone almost immediately. Whether it was out of respect or simply the fact that no one would cross her, everyone fell silent immediately, waiting for the powerful businesswoman to speak. "Thank you all for coming here today," Ms. Potts continued. "As you all know, you've been given an opportunity to become the first high school intern, or interns for those of you in pairs, for Stark Industries. If you win and your project is useful to SI, it will be refined here in the labs with the potential of selling them to the market."

Peter looked around the room, noticing how most of the items built weren't anything that could realistically be made and sold that would help the environment as was SI's quota. He was suddenly glad that Ned gave him the idea to build something that people would actually need. He was certain that their cloth and injury detecting software and technology could be useful somehow.

"Now if you would all turn your attention over here," Ms. Potts gestured to a group of several men and a few women, most dressed in lab coats while some were dressed in regular office wear. "These are our heads at the different sections of the Research and Development department. They will be grading all of your projects and how well built they are, as well as your proposals.

"Everyone will be grading you, but we only have so many people, so please be patient and wait for your turn to present." There looked to be about twenty to thirty people in the group, and from what Peter knew, there were about fifty students competing. Five students from the top ten schools in the immediate vicinity. 

"I know it may get tedious to present more than once, but all interns at SI are well acquainted with this," Ms. Potts continued explaining. "Again, thank you all for coming here today, and if you need to leave for any reason, please tell our head of security, Mr. Hogan. He will write down your name so we can get in contact about presenting at another time." She gestured to a man who stood in the corner of the room, large and imposing with sunglasses covering his eyes. He made Peter nervous, even if his spidey senses didn't buzz. Harley was eyeing the man nervously, as well.

With that, Ms. Potts checked something off on her StarkPad and left.

* * *

Tony only remembered about the internship competition a few hours after it began. Pepper had managed to convince him (read: manipulate him) to accept having a high school intern in the company. Of course, he had been reluctant to accept. This was something that although Pepper was the CEO of SI, needed to be signed off by the owner of the company.

SI had never had high school interns before, simply due to the fact that not only were they too young, but once the internship ended upon their graduation from high school, they could go to a different tech company and spill whatever secrets they managed to unravel. That if the interns did wrong or broke the roles, their internship was terminated, it could make them a possible danger to the company. There was also the fact that there was a chance that the interns weren't intelligent enough to keep up with SI's college interns and employees, possibly wasting the company's time and resources.

There were also the benefits that Tony had to consider. Giving a high schooler the opportunity to use SI's labs and research could give the kid a good career in the future. It could set them up to have a paid internship during college, as well as a scholarship for college as SI frequently gave to their interns. It could make them loyal to Stark Industries, which was valued and needed in future employees. Most of all, it helped the kid further their intelligence with the possibility of changing the world for the better.

It was when that point was made by Pepper that Tony signed the stupid paper, agreeing to the internship. It was sorta like the September Foundation, which had been named after the song his mother sang and played on the piano often, the song she played the day before she died. God, Pepper was both a genius and evil. Tony loved her.

Still, he forgot about the internship. Because, honestly, that was over a month ago and he had a lot of shit happen since then. But Pepper had told him in passing about the internship, and that's what made Tony remember. So, curious, he donned a pair of rose-tinted glasses, changed out of his grease-stained jeans and t-shirt into a pair of slacks and a dress shirt (mild for him), and headed down to the previously-empty-now-filled-with-chattering-teens intern lab.

He lingered outside of the large room for a few moments, staring through the windows. Most of the teens were otherwise occupied explaining and demonstrating their projects. Most wouldn't be beneficial to the company, but some were. Still, Tony could see the point of the projects. They were impressive; for teens, of course.

Hand movements caught his eye and Tony turned in the direction of two teens. The one was holding up some sort of cloth that had wires and stuff attached to it while the other was explaining what it was, his hands moving around much like Tony's often did when he got into explaining something.

 _"Boss, would you like to go in?"_ Friday asked, making Tony jump. He was pretty sure he heard a little bit of snark in her tone. Damn AI, taking after him. He rolled his eyes and pushed the door open, slipping through it unnoticed by anyone in the room. All the kids were too busy trying to impress the heads of R&D.

Tony made his way around the room, catching bits and pieces of people's projects. None were really noteworthy though there was one kid who made some sort of small drone-rover thing. The materials looked a little cheap but that was okay considering it looked like it worked pretty well. Unconsciously, Tony made his way to the other side of the room where the two teens with the weird cloth had been showing off their project. It seemed that they were at the end of their discussion and Tony watched as the scientist headed off to another group.

Before any of the other scientists went to grade the project, Tony sidled up to the table. Both boys looked up when he neared them, their eyes widening in shock. Thankfully, they didn't exclaim loudly who he was for everyone to hear. The smaller and shorter boy did stutter out a "M-Mr. Stark?" though.

"Um, sir? What are you doing here?" the taller boy asked, voice quiet and subdued. Tony smiled at them and gestured toward the small patch of cloth in their hands.

"Thought I'd stop by," he said, keeping his voice low enough so no one could overhear him over the other chatter in the room. "Your project caught my eye, so I want to hear about it." He nodded toward the cloth and the small tablet that was connected to it by a string of wires.

The shorter boy blinked a few times, saying, "Uh, um, o-of course, sir." Tony's press-ready smile softened slightly. The kid was so nervous. The boy took in a steadying breath. "This is our Pressure and Injury Sensory System." Tony blinked, his lips quirking up in a smirk as he leaned against the lab table.

"So, PISS." The younger looking boy's eyes widened as he spluttered, the taller one snickering into his hand as he leaned again the lab table for support.

"Peter, I told you we shouldn't have named it that," the older boy said in between his laughter.

" _Sta ‘zitto_!" the other boy, Peter, hissed, his face completely red, making Tony’s eyebrows perk at the casual use of Italian. "I-I couldn't think of anything else." He groaned and hid his face in his hands in embarrassment.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, you might have to change the name for it of you want to get it in the market." Peter froze as if forgetting Tony was standing there. Slowly, he peeked out from behind his hands sheepishly. "So, what does the _Pressure and Injury Sensory System_ do?" He emphasized the pronunciation of the name and Peter looked like he wanted to hide.

"It senses pressure and catalogs injuries," the taller boy deadpanned, his voice back to the quiet subdued one. Tony quirked an eyebrow as Peter smacked his arm with a hissed " _Harley!_ "

"No, no, he's right," Tony said, waving a hand. "I should have elaborated. _How_ does PISS work?" Peter hung his head at the laughter in his voice. The poor kid wasn't going to get over that anytime soon.

"I-It, um, it c-catalogs the force directed at a given area and d-determines the, um, injury that is most likely caused," Peter explained, stuttering over his words. "We, uh, th-thought of the idea for soldiers? Like, to sew into their uniforms? So people can see how they're h-hurt and where?" Tony hummed, plucking the cloth out of Harley's hands, making sure that it didn't pull the small obviously homemade tablet off the counter. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the cloth and how the sensors and wires were put together.

The sensors looked like they were made out of crappy junk materials and each one looked different, probably used by a different material from what the two boys scavenged them from. Turning back to the cloth side, Tony examined it. He pulled at the edges and it pulled the fabric slightly but didn't look like it affected it at all as it bounced back to its original form. The material felt sturdy and acted kind of like limited elastic. Sturdy and flexible, a plus for those who moved around a lot.

"This material, who manufactured this?" Tony questioned, looking up at the two teens. He's never come across something like this before and it looked homemade. (Correction: _really_ homemade.) Peter raised his hand slightly and Tony ignored the urge to snort at how childish the action was. "What's it made of?" Peter bit his lip and shrugged, making Tony lift his eyebrow. "Ah, keeping it a secret, I see. Reeling me in and then once you've secured my interest, you leave that little bit dangling to make me want it even more. I get it."

During the whole little speech, Peter's eyes had gotten wider and he had sputtered, saying that it wasn't it. It was so easy to mess with the kid. Harley, though, didn't fall for it and just appeared amused.

Peter opened his mouth, about to say something, only to be cut off by one of the men from R&D, "Ah, Mr. Stark, you come down to check out the kids who are going to be SI's new interns?" Tony turned in the direction of the Head of the Intern Division of Research and Development.

"Yep," Tony stated plainly. "Have you met Peter and Harley? They're interested in making technology for deployed soldiers. They have this little prototype that senses pressure and cross-references it with force to determine an injury someone can acquire. And I'm assuming this tablet here displays the possible injury?" He looked over to Harley who nodded.

"Yes, sir," Harley said quietly. "This prototype was programmed for injuries to the forearm. The app I coded should display the amount of force in pounds as well as whether or not you're in danger of breaking the bone or not."

"Interesting," the R&D scientist murmured, taking the cloth out of Tony's hand. "Can we test it out?"

Peter and Harley nodded as Peter said, "O-Of course, sir. Just, um, place it on here and hit it. The cloth m-material should protect your hand from the sensors." The man did as told and struck at the cloth, making Peter and Harley edge away from him in a flinch. Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously but turned to the tablet that lit up, displaying that the force of that hit would only bruise the arm.

"Hey, Fri, how accurate is this?" Tony asked, taking out his phone for the AI to speak out of instead of gathering the attention of everyone in the room with the speakers there.

Peter jumped as the AI stated, _"My resources determine that a strike with that amount of force correlates to a mild bruise. Mr. Parker and Mr. Keener's sensor pad is a little skewed, but appears fairly accurate."_

"How does she know our last names?" Harley asked, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Tony's personally modified StarkPhone.

"Oh, Friday knows everything," Tony said, waving his hand dismissively. "She has access to all of SI's records, including the information you entered onto those participation forms." Harley nodded. That made sense.

"Parker and Keener, huh?" the scientist asked as he examined the prototype just as Tony had. "I'll have to write that down, see what the others think of your project. This prototype could very well protect millions of our soldiers' lives." The man looked up at Tony with narrowed eyes. "You're not going to steal these two for yourself, are ya' Mr. Stark?"

Tony perked up at that. "Huh, I didn't think of that. But you know what? That actually sounds like a good idea, I'll have to talk to Pepper about that..." Tony walked away from the group, typing into his phone as he headed out of the lab.

* * *

Peter and Harley looked at each other with wide eyes. Talk to Ms. Potts about what?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. the bunk bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I'm so sorry! It's been so long since I posted the last two chapters! I started writing this chapter right after chapter two was posted and I literally just got around to finishing it! I'll start working on chapter four tomorrow after I wake up! Also, you'll all be pleased to know that there is definitely a sort of sequel after this. I've actually got the first chapter for it finished, so it's a guarantee that there'll be one.

the bunk bed

* * *

Peter's phone blinked on at exactly six-thirty in the morning, a soft ringing sounding like a fire alarm to the two sleeping boys. Peter was awake within seconds, his heart racing as he fiddled with his phone, frantically trying to turn it off. The alarm wasn't loud, he knew it's wasn't loud, but it _sounded_ loud. Loud enough that he feared that Dan would hear it.

Harley shifted from where he slept on the bottom bunk, the creaking of the bed freaking Peter out even more. It only took Harley a few seconds to realize that Peter's heart was beating much too quickly than normal, that his breaths were coming out short and quick. Kind of like they did before the spider bite when he had an asthma or anxiety attack. Peter was panicking, and when Peter panicked, Harley tended to have to stop the panicking.

He was on the top bunk within seconds of Peter turning the alarm off but his brother was already having a panic attack. It must have been a bad night, Harley surmised. It had been Peter's night patrolling last night which had been the reason Harley slept on the bottom bunk. They would switch beds and stuff the top bunk with pillows to make it look like they were both there. The first, and last, time Dan found just one of them in the room had not been a pleasant experience. They did not need a repeat of that incident.

"Peter," Harley said in a low soothing voice as he pulled the phone out of his brother's tight grip and setting it aside. _"Calmati._ It's okay, Dan's not awake. _Ascolti._ Listen to his heartbeat." Peter gripped Harley's shirt in his hands and he clenched his eyes shut, pushing through the blood rushing in his ears to hear Harley's heartbeat instead of Dan's. The calm thudding grounded him and he synced his breathing with Harley's.

Harley, seeing the way Peter turned his head in the direction of his chest, exaggerated his breathing and made it even. It had been something he knew calmed Peter down, especially during an asthma attack. Sure, Peter's asthma attacks stopped a few months after the two met, but Harley still knew how to help Peter. His little sister had had asthma and those instincts didn't just disappear after she died.

Peter calmed down slowly and Harley kept tabs on his heartbeat. It fluttered still, a side effect of the spider bite making their hearts beat faster, but it was still a little faster than normal. Harley didn't move from his hunched over position, his head pressing against the ceiling. It was a little uncomfortable, but the position wasn't too different from how he often sat on the edges of buildings. It was only when Peter's heart slowed to normal and his grip on his nightshirt calmed down did he move away.

" _Stai bene?_ " Harley asked softly, tone calm as he spoke in the language that had a calming effect on Peter.

Peter nodded. " _Mi dispiace_ ," he muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the ties on his pants. Harley sighed and pulled Peter into a quick hug. They both often didn't like being touched by people, but once they had loved hugs and casual high fives and claps on the back. Peter was usually the only person who touched him (not including when Dan got physical) and it was vice versa for Peter. He rarely did his handshake with Ned anymore.

"Not your _colpa_ ," Harley admonished, having googled the word after Peter said it once, before letting him go. He reached for Peter's phone and checked the time. "C'mon, we gotta get dressed. School starts in an hour."

It had been a long time since the two got to sleep in. They had chores to do in both the morning and the afternoon. In the morning they often had to clean up any mess Dan made the night before if he didn't do it, clean the kitchen, and sometimes meal prep for dinner. The afternoon usually consisted of using the vacuum, doing laundry, and cooking dinner amongst cleaning other things. They did all this as well as their homework and sometimes helping their elderly neighbor who often gave them a few dollars or helped them with their Spanish homework. (And there was Spider-Manning, of course.)

Peter groaned. It had been two years since he went into the system and he was still not used to the number of chores most of the families demanded. Sure, he had helped Aunt May and Uncle Ben around the house when they were alive, but he didn't have to do them as early as six in the morning or for more than an hour after school. And yes, going around the house and picking up things or cleaning had been an anxiety tic he learned from May, but he didn't do it every day at six in the morning.

Harley snickered into his hand, knowing what Peter was thinking. He had been used to helping around the house ever since his dad left. It was a necessity to wake his sister up for school and prepare breakfast since his mother worked odd hours and was either gone or needed to sleep in some times. Cleaning, while he hated it, was something he was used to.

Peter squinted at the clock that was ticking on the wall before swearing. " _Cazzo!_ " he hissed, rubbing his eyes.

"Geez, I know that chores ar--What's wrong?"

Peter scowled at the clock before swearing and rubbing his eyes again. "I can't _see_!" Peter made sure to keep his voice down in fear of waking Dan. It wouldn't do well to wake the man and get lashed with a belt or hit. Both were punishments for waking the man when they accidentally knocked things over. It had been something both boys had experienced in their year and a half (two years for Harley) they had been with the man.

"Fuck," Harley muttered, looking at Peter.

"That's what I said!" Peter hissed, pulling open the nightstand drawer and rifling through it. It was a good thing that he was nearsighted because he found his old thick-framed glasses quickly and pulled them on. He squinted through them. He was already getting a headache but these were the only pair of glasses he had. The prescription made his vision slightly fuzzy but he was seeing better with them than without. His eyes would adjust in a few minutes.

"Peter..." Harley said slowly, narrowing his eyes at his brother as he thought about the past few days. "How long have you not been able to see clearly?" Peter winced. He should have known that his brother would have noticed his squinting over the past few weeks. There was also the fact that Harley was smart enough that you can't suddenly wake up with horrible vision.

"My eyes have been getting blurry for a few weeks..." Peter murmured under his breath. Harley sighed and Peter winced again. " _Mi dispiace_! I know I should have told you." They were silent for a few moments, the ticking of the clock and the breathing and heartbeats of their neighbors the only thing to be heard.

"What does this mean?" Harley asked quietly. "Are we... Are we losing our powers?" Peter flinched and Harley grimaced. He knew what being Spider-Man meant to Peter. Hell, what it meant to _him_. Harley had been orphaned during the Battle of New York while on vacation for his eleventh birthday where aliens had crushed his mom and little sister to death. Of course, Harley didn't become Spider-Man until after he was with Dan for a few months and met Peter, but he still blamed himself. _If only he had been stronger. If only he could have pulled them out of the way. If only, if only, if only..._

"Stop that," Peter murmured, bumping into Harley after he jumped down next to him. Harley leaned against him. It was usually Harley helping Peter with his grief and guilt, but he occasionally had to help his brother in turn. And right now, Peter knew the look in Harley's blue eyes. The grief and the guilt were clear, the shining of his eyes and the expression that showed self-hate and guilt.

"At least I don't have to wear nerd glasses," Harley smirked, turning the attention away from him. Peter shoved him off the bed, knowing he would catch himself before he hit the ground.

"C'mon, we gotta get dressed and everything," Peter murmured, looking at the time on his phone. "We can't be late."

It was a good thing they lived a few blocks away from the school. It was a ten-minute walk or a three minute run at regular human speed. If they dressed quickly, it wouldn't take long to do their chores and get to school on time.

* * *

"Peter, Harley, can you hang back for a few minutes?" They were in Physics again. Peter jumped and his heart spiked as he fumbled with his pencil and paper. He was still a little shaky from that morning and what happened on patrol last night. (He'd almost been too late for a girl who got cornered in an alley. It brought up bad memories.)

" _Cosa abbiamo fatto?_ " Peter hissed under his breath as he packed up his items with shaking hands. He was running through the past hour in his head, but nothing bad stood out about the whole month. They hadn't been caught whispering, he didn't think. Mrs. Warren was usually a stickler about pointing that out during class and it hadn't happened at all even though they've been talking about their project for the past month. Shit, did she know that he was using the chemicals for his web fluid? Wait, no, this wasn't chemistry. She was still a science teacher, though... Maybe they all talked?

Harley shrugged, hissing back an "I don't know! _"_ which knocked Peter out of his thoughts.

Peter fiddled with his sweater sleeves as he looked at Mrs. Warren nervously out of the corner of his eyes. Mrs. Warren's heart was beating quicker than its usual calm pace and it had him both suspicious and anxious for what she had to say to them. Her heartbeat told him that she was either anxious or excited. Or both. Of course, that meant the woman could be scared or angry, but she was bouncing slightly on her heels and had a small smile on her face, so it couldn't be either of those. Peter couldn't even touch the thought of her heartbeat quickening at sexual reactions before shuddering. It wasn't that either.

It didn't take long for the two to pack up their items and slowly head to the front of the class. They couldn't delay this conversation for long, but considering Mrs. Warren seemed happy, it couldn't be a bad thing. Peter and Harley exchanged glances, wondering what their teacher could be happy about.

"Okay, boys," the woman said kindly even though the word _boys_ had Peter and Harley cringing slightly, Dan's use of the word ringing through their ears. Mrs. Warren didn't seem to notice as she continued. "Do you two remember the competition a few days ago at Stark Industries? Well," the smile she was trying to keep small bloomed into a large grin. "It appears that Stark Industries has taken an interest in you two!"

Peter blinked a few times, trying not to get his hope up as he glanced at Harley. "Mrs. Warren, does this mean...?" Harley asked quietly, trailing off with hope in his voice. It was clear that Harley also didn't want to celebrate early.

"You two got the internship!" Mrs. Warren crowed in excitement. Peter's breath stopped in his throat as he stared wide-eyed at his teacher.

"W-We got the internship?" Peter asked breathlessly, sharing a look with Harley who looks just as shocked.

"Yep!" Mrs. Warren said, sounding like she was trying not to squeal. "Here's the permission form you two have to sign. In general, it states that it's an unpaid internship that'll last until graduation unless said otherwise. It also states that you'll have to sign NDA's once you start. You'll need a guardian's signature to be able to do the internship. The papers say that the internship starts in two weeks, so you'll have plenty of time to decide if this is what you really want to do. Though something tells me you both already have your minds set." She winked at them.

"Th-Thank you, ma'am," Harley said quietly, this time stuttering over his words as Peter usually did. He took the papers from Mrs. Warren's hands, looking down at the two packets with wide eyes. He couldn't believe that they actually got the internship, and neither could Peter. They were going to work at Stark Industries!

"You two better head off to your classes. Here are your passes." Both took their passes silently and left slowly, stunned.

* * *

The two never got the chance to tell Dan about their internship that night. He came home late, the stench of alcohol radiating off him. Peter and Harley hadn't eaten yet and were waiting for Dan to get home to eat. Dan didn't like them eating without him, that's why they rarely, if ever, got breakfast. They occasionally snatched an apple, or orange in Harley's case ( _Honestly, Harls, why do you like oranges??? They're so sticky! And what about the random seeds!?)_ , but they had to wait to eat breakfast at school, not that the piece of toast did much to put a dent in their hunger.

They finished with all of their chores but the dishes from cooking dinner were still being done when Dan stormed in, knocking the front door into the wall. Peter jumped at the noise and flinched as he turned to Dan, soap flying from where he pulled his hands out of the kitchen sink. The man's heart was beating quicker than normal and his work clothes and hair were rumpled and in disarray.

Dan glared at Peter and down at the water that dripped from his hands. "Clean that up!" he barked. Harley, who had just put the laundry away, hurried to help Peter. "No! He made the mess, he cleans it!" Harley stopped at the edge of the kitchen, watching nervously as Peter frantically hurried to grab a towel and clean up the water. Soap and water dripped from his hands as he tried to mop up the mess.

"You!" Dan snarled, looking over at Harley who stood at the edge of the kitchen nervously. Peter and Harley jumped at the loud shout. "Where's my dinner?"

"I'll get it, sir," Harley said quietly, grabbing the wrapped up bowl of spaghetti from the fridge. Although it was still warm, he put it in the microwave for a minute. Dan threw his briefcase onto the table and sat down roughly. Peter and Harley shared a swift glance. Something bad must have happened. It wasn't often that Dan drank, he wasn't an alcoholic, but there's been more than a few occurrences ever since Peter was taken in.

Peter stood and began washing the dishes again, hunching down as he felt Dan's eyes on him. "Boy!" Peter just about managed to not jump this time. "Get me a drink!" Peter was quick to wipe his hands off and grab a glass, but as he turned to go to the fridge, he bumped into the edge of the table, the glass slipping from his hands. Peter and Harley froze, staring at the broken glass on the ground before Peter swiftly dropped to the floor.

"I-I-I'm so sorry!" he stuttered out, knees slamming into the tile and sending a jolt of pain up his legs as he frantically tried to pick up the broken glass.

He hissed as he cut his hand open before it turned into a yelp, a large hand burying itself into his long curls and pulling him to his feet. Peter had had more painful injuries since becoming Spider-Man (a freaking warehouse _fell_ on him for Pete's sake!), but the stinging in his scalp brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them away quickly before Dan could see them. The man hated when he or Harley cried, yelling at them and often hitting them to make them stop, stating how _they were men and needed to act like it_.

Well, Peter was sure he wasn't getting out of the "hitting them" part tonight.

Just as the thought ran through his mind, his spidey sense screamed at him, telling him to move and deflect the hand shooting toward him. Dan's hit was sloppy and boxed the side of his head, causing it to throb in pain as his ear began to ring. His scalp burned as his hair was pulled as Dan maneuvered him close enough that the scent of alcohol reeking off him burned his nose. The adult's ice blue furious eyes met his as he snarled.

"How _dare_ you!?" the man boomed into Peter's ear, making him flinch at the loud noise.

"Let him go!" Harley yelled from off to the side, garnering the man's attention. Peter scowled, knowing what Harley was doing. He was trying to protect him, just like he did when Dan originally took Peter in. The man in question threw Peter to the side, and he caught himself on the counter before he could brain himself on it, his vision blurring slightly as his glasses flew askew.

Dan stormed up to Harley, backhanding him harshly, not bothering to pull his blow. Harley, keeping his strength a secret, let the blow come and fell against a cabinet, hitting the back of his head against the door. His spidey-sense may not be as well-tuned as Peter's, but he knew Dan. And he knew that the man would hit him and he acted according to that. "Don't tell me what to do, _boy_!" Dan bellowed, pulling Harley up by his shirt. Harley grabbed the man's hands, using a little bit of strength as he attempted to pull him off.

His head exploded in pain as Dan shook him and he felt the back of his head dampen. Blood, he was sure. It wasn't the first head injury he's sustained, concussions being a common thing amongst both Dan's abuse and Spider-Manning. Peter rushed forward, pulling at Dan's arm.

"W-Wait, stop!" he cried. The man ripped his hand away from Harley, turning to push Peter backward. The boy fell to the floor, biting his lip to hide a yelp as glass dug into his forearms and back.

Dan took his distraction to throw a kick his way, the man's glossy black shoes hitting his unprotected ribs and stomach. When Harley tried to pull him away, he got the same treatment. Peter's lip split as he tried to prevent the tears falling and the pained yells from escaping him. It wasn't too much later that Dan tired of raining blows on them, grabbing his bowl of spaghetti and retiring to the living room with a "Clean this mess up" thrown over his shoulder.

Harley and Peter stayed on the ground until they heard the TV turn on before slowly pushing themselves onto their feet. Harley helped Peter up, the glass embedded in his back, side, and arms causing blood to spill onto the white tile. He pushed the younger boy in the direction of the guest bathroom as he swiftly cleaned the mess of blood and broken glass in the kitchen, leaving the dirty pot in the sink for tomorrow morning.

After he finished, Harley pressed a damp rag to the back of his head to staunch the blood flow and wipe up some of the blood. When he went to the bedroom, he found Peter curled up on the top bunk. Harley didn't think twice about closing the door and curling around him, not bothering to soothe his injuries.

* * *

"Why does he hurt us?" Peter had asked a few weeks after Dan's abuse on him started.

"Because he can," had been Harley's response.

* * *

Harley was right. Dan could hurt them and so he did.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was time to see the bad side of Dan. I kept hinting-but-not-really about him being abusive but there was nothing to back it up! P.S. The end of this was actually gonna be happy and about the internship, but you'll see this in the next chapter. Probably.


	4. the stark internship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite proud of myself for the ending of this chapter. Also, I did not intend to take this long updating. My mom had a stroke and I spent a few days driving to the city about an hour's ride from my house and back to see her. She's home now but I have to take turns with my dad and sisters watching over her. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully, I'll continue the whole 'once a week'/'every five days' thing I have going on.
> 
> Also, I've been binge-watching BBC's Merlin. I see a Merlin/Avengers fic in the future.

the stark internship

* * *

It took nearly a day for their bruises and cuts to heal rather than the usual minutes or hour. School the next day was spent with hiding winces and long sleeves and hoods up and being hungry. They had barely gotten any sleep, too afraid that Dan would come to their room and hurt them even more. It had been Harley's night to patrol but he couldn't leave Peter.

Sharing the bed with his brother was a common thing and it provided both of them comfort on bad days or nights. Peter was usually the one to crawl into Harley's bed and Harley didn't mind it. His little sister had done the same because she had been afraid of thunderstorms and those had happened often back in Rose Hill.

Harley missed Tenessee sometimes, though he didn't miss the bullying. While Dan sometimes made their home life hell, no one at school here messed with him. He had gotten into more than one scuffle in his first few months at school, and while those days led to more bruises at home, people learned to keep their distance quickly. Harley Keener was a scrappy motherfucker, and if you fucked with his brother or friends or anyone else in the immediate vicinity, you fucked with him.

Too bad Flash often forgot that little detail.

"Hey, Penis Parker!" Flash called, bumping into Peter. His stumble wasn't just for show and he bit his lip to hide a yelp as his side flared in pain. Peter looked around for Harley, knowing that they shared the next class together and should be in the same hall but he couldn't see him. Flash knocked into Peter again, sending him into the lockers. He hissed as the slices on his back stung. Flash snickered before pushing Peter one more time and sauntering off, his friends' laughter following after him.

Pushing himself up, Peter watched as Harley strode in his direction, eyebrows creased in worry with rage alight in his eyes. " _Stai bene?_ " Harley asked in Italian so that the other students around wouldn't know what he was saying. Peter nodded and rubbed the back of his head, okay for the most part. Flash's hit wasn't strong enough to break the skin and the headache from the hit was mild. His back felt on fire, though, and keeping it in the direction of the lockers, he lifted his shirt and felt the skin there. Withdrawing it, he swore under his breath at the red staining his hand.

"Wait here," Harley murmured, walking to the classroom they were going to. It was only a few doors down and Peter could easily catch Harley's words to their teacher over the chatter of the students. "Mr. Harrington? Peter's not feeling well, is it okay if I take him to the nurse?"

Peter feigned being sick by bending over slightly and holding his stomach when Harley gestured to him. "Oh, no," Mr. Harrington said sympathetically. "Yeah, go ahead and take him to the nurse. You shouldn't need a pass." Harley said his thanks and quickly returned to Peter, heading in the direction of the boy's bathroom that was under the stairwell instead of going to the nurse's office. They couldn't let anyone know that Dan hurt them. They could be separated.

Harley locked the bathroom door behind them after making sure that no one was in there. It wasn't surprising that no one was using it. It was small and outdated, and the door was hard to see from where it sat under the stairs. Harley had discovered it after roaming the halls a few weeks after joining the school. He often huddled in it when he needed a breather and had brought Peter there once when he was having a sensory overload.

The lights in there were dim and the walls here were thick enough that they couldn't hear as far as usual, which was a blessing. The chatter in the hall decreased as the bell rang, Peter and Harley wincing at the sound. The only bad part about the bathroom was that the fire alarm, intercom, and bell system were located right next to it.

"Take your shirt off," Harley ordered, taking out his longsleeved gym shirt. They hadn't needed to change for PE today since they were going over a new unit. It was a relief since their injuries should be mostly healed by the time they start basketball tomorrow.

Peter peeled his hoodie and t-shirt off slowly, wincing when the fabric pulled at his back injuries and when his ribs and side stung. The deeper cuts on his back had split open, and although they were already closing, the dried blood on his shirt pulled them back open. He tossed the hoodie on the floor and gave the shirt to Harley, who wet it under the sink before telling him to turn around. Peter did so without a complaint. It wasn't the first time Harley nursed his wounds and it wouldn't be the last. Besides, the shirt already had blood on it.

Harley sucked a breath through his teeth, looking at the half-healed cuts on his brother's back. He hadn't seen the wounds last night or that morning, and by the looks of them, the glass must have cut deep. "Oh, _fratello_ ," Harley murmured, wincing with Peter when he began to clean up the cuts. "Why aren't these healing?"

"It's our metabolism," Peter grit out. "We're not being fed nearly enough for it so our injuries take longer to heal." He had noticed that his healing factor slowed down when he went from well-fed to getting two meager meals a day.

Harley hummed, "You're the biochemist." Peter shrugged and clenched his hands when Harley dabbed at one of the bigger cuts.

It didn't take long for Harley to finish cleaning the cuts and wait for them to close before wringing out the bloody shirt in the sink and rolling it up to put in his bag. The shirt was black so the stains shouldn't show. Peter tugged on the gym shirt and his hoodie.

The two returned to class before Mr. Harrington finished the instructions for the day.

* * *

It was a week later that Harley and Peter worked up the courage to approach Dan about the internship and getting his signature. The man had been in a surprisingly good mood when he returned from work the night after he beat them, but they had decided to wait it out. When the good mood didn't dissipate, they approached him during the tail end of dinner.

"Sir?" Harley asked, setting down his silverware as he looked up at Dan. The man didn't bother to set down his phone and just grunted, prompting him to continue. "Do you remember the competition we had a few weeks ago? The one at SI?" At this, the man looked up from his phone.

"What about it?"

"W-Well, sir," Peter chipped in. "Our teacher, the o-one who gave us the forms to enter the competition? She, um..."

"She got an email from Stark Industries," Harley finished for him. "She said we got the internship."

Dan narrowed his eyes at them. "You two," he gestured at them with his phone, "are telling me you got that internship?" They nodded hesitantly. " _You_ out of how many other students won? What could you have possibly built to win that internship?" Peter opened his mouth to speak before getting cut off by the man. "Doesn't matter, boy. When does it start?"

"In a week."

The man snorted loudly. "Of course it does. Well, is that all?"

Harley looked over at Peter nervously before saying, "We have permission forms, sir."

Dan sighed. "Of course you do." They sat there for a few seconds before he spoke up again, "Well? Are you going to get them?" Peter jumped up at that, tipping his chair over as he turned in the direction of the hall. His heart jumped as he stood with his back to Dan, waiting for the reprimand. It took a few seconds to realize that it wasn't coming and he skittered to his bedroom after picking up the chair, grabbing the forms from where they sat on the nightstand.

Dan signed the papers without glancing at a single word.

* * *

It was Monday, the day of the internship. Peter and Harley were wearing the same clothes they did at the competition to school with hoodies thrown over them. They wouldn't have the time to go back to Dan's apartment and change as they had to catch the train to Manhattan. The internship started at three-thirty, fifty minutes after school ended, and it would take them that long to get to the Tower. Hopefully, they wouldn't be late.

The school day went... surprisingly well. Flash left Peter alone (which was good for him because Harley was out to get him for the previous week), he did his handshake with Ned, though tentatively, and MJ even sat at their table! He had known her for a year but didn't really talk to her until Liz left and he felt that they were sorta friends. She still sat at the end of their table sometimes, so he made it his duty to get her to sit with them whenever possible. (Turned out she was super cool and super funny.) It didn't always work, but she was hanging around more. (Harley liked to joke that Peter had a crush on her. Peter denied it.)

It was only when school ended did the trouble begin. Particularly after their ride to Manhattan. The subway had been delayed, not long, just by a few minutes, but it was enough to throw their whole schedule off-kilter. They had to sprint through traffic and crowds of people to get there on time, going as fast as they dared. The Stark Internship was important, but not important enough to get found out as Spider-Man.

They rushed into the Tower a few minutes late and Peter cringed when he saw the time. " _Siamo in ritardo,_ " he murmured under his breath as they speed-walked towards the front desk. They weren't even close to winded, their sprint not even comparable to their web-slinging.

"Do you think they'll notice?" Peter shrugged but the grimace on his face told Harley that they probably would. Late on the first day of their internship? Not good.

They nervously stepped up to one of the receptionists, Harley stepping forward to introduce themselves. "I'm Harley and this is Peter. We're here for our internship?" The woman behind the desk lifted an eyebrow as she turned to her computer and typed something into.

"Last names?"

"Uh, P-Parker and Keener," Peter stuttered. The woman's eyebrows lifted slightly as she read something on the screen but she swiftly schooled her expression (not well enough) and turned back to them.

"Do you have the permission forms?"

"Oh, yeah." Harley dug through his backpack for the papers, feeling sheepish as he handed over the crumpled documents. While Peter kept his backpack neater than Harley did, he also tended to lose them. He once had to go over a month without a backpack before Ned managed to convince his mom that he needed a new one and gave his old one to Peter. The Star Wars embroidered backpack was the one he was currently using.

The woman took the papers and swiftly checked them for signatures, scanning them before putting them into a folder and handing the file to them. "Go ahead and give that to Mr. Stark," the lady said.

Both were confused. "'M-Mr. Stark'?" Peter questioned. The lady just smiled at them and pointed to a small elevator in the corner of the room beside her desk, telling them to go to floor seventy-nine. It wasn't the elevator that they used for the field trip, which had them suspicious. It was also the mischievous expression the receptionist that had them nervous, but Peter's spidey-sense wasn't ringing, so they stepped into it.

There were no buttons they realized as the doors slid shut. The reason for this quite literally popped up (or sounded, Peter guessed) out of nowhere. _"Hello, Mr. Parker and Mr. Keener. What floor are you heading toward?"_

Peter jumped and Harley looked at the ceiling with wide eyes. "Friday?" he asked quietly, remembering the voice from a few weeks ago.

The AI sounded almost amused when she said, _"Yes?"_

"Uh..." The two boys exchanged glances before Peter spoke. "Can you take us to floor seventy-nine, please?"

 _"Of course,"_ Friday said, the elevator moving a second later. It didn't even feel like a minute went past when the doors opened to a small sort of landing area. There was a small little waiting room like area with two sets of doors. One on the left side of the square room, and one on the right. The only sounds they could hear came from the door on the right led to Peter hesitantly knocking on the doors.

The loud music, which Harley recognized to be AC/DC, stopped. A few seconds later there was a shouted, "Come in!" The voice sounded familiar and Peter realized why the second the doors opened of their own accord. Tony Stark sat in the middle of the room next to a _car_ with oil smudged on his cheek and clothes.

"Oh, it's Monday already?" Mr. Stark asked, blinking in confusion as he wiped his hands on a dirty cloth. Well, at least he didn't notice that they were late. Peter and Harley just blinked owlishly at the man. This was a completely different Tony Stark than the one they met a few weeks ago. Whereas Mr. Stark had been dressed business-casual and had been bantering with them before, he now had dark bags under his eyes and his clothes and skin were smudged with oil.

"Um..." Peter trailed off, sharing a look with Harley. Harley looked just as confused.

"We were told to give this to you," Harley said quietly, holding up the manila folder for Mr. Stark to see. The man set down his cloth and pointed to a couch in the corner of the room next to what looked to be a mini kitchen.

"Put your stuff down over there," Mr. Stark said. The two shuffled over and set their bags down as Mr. Stark made his way over. Harley turned to hand the man the folder and Mr. Stark raised his hands quickly, making him flinch. "I don't like being handed things."

Harley just nodded and slid the folder onto the counter, Mr. Stark grabbing it the second his hand returned to his side. He flipped through the folder for a few seconds before heading to a small filing cabinet next to one of the unused desks. Pulling out a few packets, he slid them towards Harley and Peter.

Peter looked down at the stack of papers. "Those are NDA's," Mr. Stark informed them. "Those permission slips gave permission for you to sign them and you need to sign them to be able to work here. I can't have you turning your backs on me and spilling all my dirty little secrets." The man's tone was joking, but when Peter looked into his eyes, he could see the seriousness in them.

"D-Do you mind if I look them over, s-sir...?" he trailed off, not wanting to insinuate anything but falling back on what he had been taught. Aunt May had always read documents before signing and had told him to do the same. He didn't know the specifics as to why she was so adamant about it, but apparently it cost her much of her money. It had been one of the reasons that they had been so broke, he knew.

Mr. Stark waved a hand in the air and this time none of them flinched, though Peter, who was closer to the man, stiffened. "Nah, go ahead. Gotta be careful and all that. In the meantime, Hogarth over here can help me take apart this engine. You know how to do that, right?"

It took Harley a second to realize that the man was talking about him. It took another second to realize that the man was talking about the boy from the Iron Giant. It had been one of his favorite movies to watch as a kid. Harley wanted to make some quip about Mr. Stark being a junkyard owner or a beatnik, but he held his tongue. Despite how much Peter seemed to trust the man, Mr. Stark was a stranger. Albeit a superhero billionaire stranger, but still, a stranger.

And Harley didn't trust strangers.

* * *

Peter took his time to read the NDA's but they were pretty straightforward. They basically said "Snitch and you'll future will be crushed and you'll be so far in debt that you won't be able to dig yourself out until you're grey and old." While confident in his ability to not share anything he saw at the company, he was intimidated. But he trusted Mr. Stark, the man had been his hero long before he became Iron Man!

"Hey, Bambi, you done reading those, yet?" Peter jumped. He had been so into his thoughts that he didn't hear Mr. Stark approach him. His spidey-sense didn't buzz, either, confirming his thoughts that the man was trustworthy. His head snapped up anyway and a blush worked its way from his ears down his throat.

"U-Uh, yep!" he stuttered, quickly signing the bottom of two of the NDA's. He brought the other two and the pen over to where Harley was somehow already covered in grease. He signed them and Peter turned to Mr. Stark, holding up the papers.

Mr. Stark nodded in the direction of the filing cabinet where the manila folder sat on top of it. "Just put them in the folder and get back over here. I need a little help wheeling this over to the table." Mr. Stark jerked his thumb behind him toward an empty table. Harley, who was right next to the man, flinched. Mr. Stark seemed to freeze for a moment before slowly moving his hand. Harley warily watched him.

He hadn't meant to flinch, he just hadn't expected the man to move so suddenly. He mentally cursed himself. Mr. Stark was going to find out about their home life if he didn't become more careful. The man was already noticing how he flinched and was moving carefully around him.

Harley didn't meet Mr. Stark's eyes. He could feel their gaze on the side of his head but he just focused on making it look like an effort as he and Peter helped him push the engine. It didn't take long to get the engine lift and lift it onto the table. It was more or less silent in the lab save for their breathing and the sound of the air conditioner.

Mr. Stark stretched when he finally removed the straps of the engine lift, pushing it away. "Okay, kiddies," he exclaimed loudly in a way that sounded awkward and forced. He clapped his hands (and Harley successfully hid a flinch while Peter tensed) and gave a grand gesture toward the grease-stained engine. "Who's ready to make this baby arc-reactor powered?"

Peter's eyes lit up and Harley hid an excited grin.

* * *

It had been a few hours since they started working and Tony was currently teaching the two boys the parts of your typical engine. They were both quick learners, he learned, and it didn't take long to tell them the basic knowledge of a car's engine. It had originally started because he had asked for their help removing a certain part of the engine and they both just looked at them blankly. And, well, he couldn't just have them stand there without knowing what was happening.

Pepper had warned him that something like this may happen.

_"You're going to have to teach them some things, Tony, that's what being a mentor is about," she told him after he brought up the two boys he had just met. Tony was currently trying to convince Pepper to have the two kids as his personal interns._

_"Honestly, Pep, the kids are brilliant. They made up this biometric scanner that's been coded to detect injuries. I don't think I need to teach them anything." Pepper rolled her eyes._

_"You just want to get out of meetings, don't you?" Tony 'hmphed' as he crossed his arms. Okay, so, that had been one of the ideas that crossed his mind when the R &D head brought up the idea of him 'stealing' the two kids. Pepper had been swamping him with more and more meetings lately ever since she found him in a five-day bender in the lab. Tony supposed that it was a way to stop something like that from happening again and to get his mind off the rogue Avengers and the Accords._

_Ross had been up his ass lately about the suggestions he made in changing the documents. Tony could understand where Steve had been coming from about being tethered down but his whole plan had been to slowly change the documents over time as they regained the trust of the UN. That didn't mean that he had to acknowledge that little fact that he agreed with the man. He was still a little pissed at Steve._

_"I don't just want to get out of meetings," Tony said, shaking off his thoughts. He shrugged off Pepper's doubtful look and brought up a picture of the two boys in the middle of their explanation of what Tony would forever refer to as PISS. Peter's eyes were lit up, a small genuine smile on his face as his hands were in the middle of waving about. Harley was gesturing to the little cloth device and the tablet that had a pressure reading on it from where the kid was gripping the fabric._

_"Look at this, Pep. These two kids made this out of junk materials at home. Even the cloth was homemade!" he exclaimed. "C'mon, Ms. Potts, you're telling me that these two kids wouldn't be able to keep up with me?" Pepper's eyes flickered from the picture to Tony, her eyes softening slightly._

_"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Tony cringed slightly at his fiancee's change in tone. It was jammed pack with, ew,_ feelings _. Despite this, he nodded. Luckily, the woman changed her tone, having caught the way Tony became uncomfortable. "Okay, Mr. Stark, just sign this and you'll be all set." Tony took the stylus from Pepper, smiling when her face lit up. She knew that he didn't like being handed things and she was happy that he was working on that. God, he loved that woman._

_The contract on the screen was the one every person in the company had to sign when getting assigned a new intern. It basically had the intern's name and stated that they were responsible for every move the intern made. They mess something up, you deal with it. They break something, you deal with it. Of course, the interns would pay to fix the broken items, but considering Tony's interns wouldn't be getting paid, he would have to take responsibility for anything they broke._

_He signed the contract without a second thought._

Tony paused from where he was messing with schematics to look over at Peter and Harley who were whispering excitedly about the engine. He couldn't find it in himself to care that Pepper had, once again, proved him wrong.

* * *


	5. the beginning of a routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, once again, a family issue has come up. It's... pretty serious. Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter! I wasn't really sure how to end it and I'm afraid that I should have added more.

* * *

Tony glanced over at where Peter and Harley were cleaning the separate parts of the engine while he worked on the arc reactor part. It was grunt work, he knew, since most of the parts were going to go into storage until he needed them again. They weren’t anything special, the engine had come out of an Audi from a few years ago. He could build his own engine parts better than any of the mass-manufactured ones.

But that’s not what he was worried about, he was pretty sure he heard a sound other than the booming of his music. It wasn’t a phone or anything, it was louder and deeper than a phone’s ringer or vibration. There! He heard it again.

He glanced at the two kids again. Peter was hunched over slightly, cupping his stomach, and so was Harley. Oh. _Oh_. They were hungry. Kids got hungry, especially teenagers. That was a thing, right? Teenagers were bottomless pits and all that? Not that Tony could really remember. He had gone on how-many-day-blackout-benders in the labs back at MIT, but Rhodey had been there to force food into his mouth every now and then.

There was another rumble, this one echoing as both kids’ stomachs growled. Peter and Harley barely paid any attention to their stomachs, however, instead choosing to focus on cleaning the oily engine parts. Tony supposed that they were either used to ignoring their stomachs (he didn’t want to think of the implications of it, that was a normal thing among teenagers, right?) or they were too embarrassed to say something.

Probably the latter. Hopefully.

So, after waiting for a few minutes to pass, Tony threw down his tools and stretched with a groan. From the corner of his eye, he saw Peter and Harley flinch and straighten, turning to him. Tony hid a grimace. No sudden loud noises, then. He could do that. Maybe.

Gesturing for Friday to turn the music down, he turned to the two kids. They didn’t necessarily meet his eyes, but they were looking in his general direction. “How about pizza?”

Both frowned, and after sharing a glance with Harley, Peter stuttered out, “W-What?”

Tony smirked a little and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, dinner? It’s,” he checked his watch, “a little after six. I think that’s late enough, right? When do regular people eat dinner?” The last part was muttered under his breath, but maybe he spoke it louder than he thought if the slight smiles on his interns’ faces were anything to go by.

Clearing his throat, Tony straightened up. “So, what kind of pizza do you guys want? I'm gonna get mushrooms and pepperoni on mine. What about you two?”

“O-Oh, Mr. Stark, you don’t have to…” Peter trailed off. “W-We’re fine.”

Tony just waived a hand in the air. “Nonsense. The internship contract states that you get a meal and a break. We’re just gonna do that now.” He waited as the two shared a look, having some sort of private conversation. After a few seconds of silence, and minute changes in the kids’ expressions which they somehow knew how to read but Tony didn't understand one bit, Peter spoke again.

“Um, pepperoni?” It was hesitant, but he’ll take it.

“Fri, go ahead and order us three pizzas, one mushroom and pepperoni, and two pepperonis.” Tony turned back to the two kids. “Friday will let us know when the pizza’s here. Just keep working.” He waved a hand haphazardly to the pile of half-cleaned objects. He had finished explaining all the parts and how they worked but had been unable to get any real thought-out questions out of the kids. It seemed that now that they weren’t in a room full of people talking that they weren't keen on speaking.

They headed to the penthouse when Friday told them their pizzas arrived and Tony waved off the _R-Really, Mr. Stark, we’re fine eating down here_ from, you guessed it, Peter. Harley had yet to speak.

Friday had taken liberty with the pizza sizes and both Peter and Harley had gotten larges. It seemed that the AI had taken notice of how skinny the two boys were, just as he had. It made Tony curious. Both kids were obviously brilliant, but the materials they used in their project for the competition told him that they didn’t have any real money. It had made sense with them being orphans (and yes, he had snooped). The state of their clothes was also something that clued into their poor background. The shirts were obviously much too large for them and had been hemmed and tailored in an effort to make them fit the boys, though it was done poorly.

Instead of commenting on their clothes (though he will be telling them to wear hoodies and regular jeans sometime tomorrow), Tony gestured to the collection of couches and chairs he had. “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll get some plates and napkins. Want anything to drink? Scotch, brandy?” Tony chuckled at their expressions. Peter looked alarmed and Harley was wrinkling his nose (which he took as a win since Harley’s expressions only seemed to differ between nervous, excited, or studiously blank). (Tony refused to think about the fact that he was already knowing things about the two kids.)

“Water, then?”

Cue twin nods and Tony left the room chuckling, leaving the kids to get settled.

* * *

Peter nervously wiped off his jeans as he looked at the dark grey couch. There were smudges of oil on his shirt and pants and he really didn’t want to get any on the couch. But Mr. Stark had said that they could sit…

“C’mon,” Harley murmured, settling into the corner of the center couch. There were a ridiculous amount of couches and chairs in the living room and it suddenly dawned on Peter that there were people who used to sit in the couches half a year ago. Shaking off the, admittedly, sad thoughts, Peter sat next to Harley. Neither leaned back against the couches, both sitting up straight, their back taunt.

The fridge opened and closed and soon enough Mr. Stark came walking out of the room, three water bottles in his arms as well as some napkins. Something in him sighed in relief at the lack of a bottle of beer or some other alcohol. Yes, the alcohol thing that been a joke, but Peter knew Mr. Stark’s history no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Harley was also relieved. He had been around Dan months longer than Peter had. His views on alcohol were pretty skewed from his own father, as well.

Mr. Stark tossed them their waters and threw the napkins on the table and gestured to the pizzas with a flourish. “Bon appetite.” Peter couldn’t help the quirk of his lip and Harley hid a smile as Mr. Stark took a seat in a nearby armchair.

It was silent for a few seconds other than the sounds of chewing. “You guys want to watch a movie?” Peter and Harley shrugged. "Cool. Fri?" The TV flickered off for a few seconds before a movie loaded on the screen. Harley smiled when he saw that it was _The Iron Giant_. It reminded him of the fact that Tony had called him the name of the boy in the movie. It was kind of weird to think that Mr. Stark watched kids movies, but he wasn't really complaining. He loved this movie.

* * *

Mr. Stark was exactly like Peter when he watched a movie. Whenever they got the chance to watch any movies, Peter often chose Star Wars and _he spoke all the way through them_. Seriously, you would think that Peter would run out of theories or fun facts with the way he spoke as if they were going out of fashion. He always managed to have a new one every time he watched the movies. It could get annoying sometimes, but right now? Watching his favorite childhood movie with Tony Stark and _having_ Tony Stark criticize the mechanics of the Iron Giant? It was honestly pretty funny.

"Why-Why is he eating!?" Tony asked, gesturing wildly at the screen where the Giant ate Dean's 'art'. "He's a _robot_ , he doesn't _need_ to _eat_."

 _"I believe Dum-E_ _would disagree, boss,"_ Friday chimed in (and totally not making Harley jump), sounding as amused as an AI could. _"He quite likes smoothies."_

Tony scowled at the ceiling. "You mean the smoothies he gives me that have oil or knuts and bolts in them?" he asked dryly. Peter snorted into his slice of pizza. He was still eating, having forced himself to slow down as to not seem like a starved dog, but half of the pizza was currently sitting in his stomach. He was starting to feel slightly nauseous and knew that he might end up puking his dinner up when he got back to the apartment, but he couldn't help himself from eating. Who knew the next time he would be able to eat a meal that actually made him feel _full_?

"He gives you oil smoothies?" Harley asked in curiosity.

Mr. Stark appeared to startle for a second. "He speaks!" Harley shrunk back into the couch cushions, forgetting that Peter had been the one doing most of the talking, even if they had barely said anything. Mr. Stark just continued, probably having not noticed Harley's reaction or just ignoring it, "And yes, Dum-E _loves_ giving me toxic smoothies. I think he wants to inherit my money and take over the world." HE tapped his chin as if he was thinking.

Harley cracked a smile.

Barely a few minutes passed before Peter and Harley heard the elevator open, both turning simultaneously in the direction of it. The clicking of high heels was the only warning they got before Pepper Potts rounded the corner, saying "Tony, you're supposed to b--" She froze when she spotted the three of them sitting on the couch. Peter and Harley, who had finally sat against the cushions, sat up straight.

Ms. Potts perked an eyebrow, looking over the living room. They must have made a sight, the three of them covered in oil smudges with three half-eaten pizzas watching a kid's movie. "Is this a part of their internship?" Ms. Potts looked straight past the two of them to Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark defended his actions by shrugging and saying, "They're entitled to a break and dinner."

Ms. Potts looked at the screen where Friday paused the movie. They were a little over halfway through it, the screen a burnt orange at the photo development scene. "I think fifty minutes is long enough, don't you think? It's a little after six." Peter and Harley jumped up at that. Shit, Dan would be home soon and they still had to cook dinner and had some chores to do. Ms. Potts looked over at them with a small frown. "Is everything alright, boys?"

Peter flinched at the word and fiddled with his hoodie strings, having put it on halfway through the lab session. It was chilly in the lab and Peter and Harley got colder much easier since the spider bite. "W-We, um, need to get back to the a-apartment. We have chores and homework..." Peter took out his phone and frowned in worry. It'll take them almost an hour to get home and an hour to cook dinner. While they had gotten up early to do most of their chores, they still had to run the sweeper and clean the bathroom.

"Tony!" Ms. Potts scolded. "You didn't let them do their homework?"

Tony threw his hands up in surrender. "I didn't know they had any homework!" he defended himself.

"S-Sorry, sir."

"I'll have Happy drive you two home," Mr. Stark said, ignoring Peter's apology. "I'll also get him to pick you two up and drive you home on internship days so you don't have to worry about getting to the subway on the time." Peter opened his mouth to tell Mr. Stark that he didn't have to get Mr. Happy to drive them but a raised eyebrow made him close his mouth.

Instead, he said, "Thank you, sir."

They went down to the lab to gather their things when Mr. Happy (it turned out he was the security guard that Peter saw at the competition a few weeks ago) arrived. They managed to get back to the apartment and finish their chores by the time Dan got back from work. Dan had been tired and didn't bother them about anything and they finished their homework in silence before going to bed. They decided to talk about their internship tomorrow with Ned and MJ, the only two who knew that they got the internship.

Ned was excited, MJ wasn't.

* * *

"Hey!" Tony looked up when Friday turned off his music. Peter and Harley were standing awkwardly by the doors. Tony blinked for a second before gesturing to the couch, "Set your things down, I need your help with sorting. But first, I gotta show you around the lab." He smirked as Peter and Harley's eyes wandered around the lab with excitement sparkling in their eyes, both swiftly tossing their backpacks on the couch but keeping their hoodie and jacket on. Peter was wearing his dress shirt from the other day and Tony was willing to bet that Harley's was underneath his hoodie. He'll have to tell them later to just wear regular clothes.

Tossing the rest of the bolts he was sorting into a container, Tony stood and stretched. "First, ground rules," he said, tilting his head to the side as he watched both kids' reactions. Peter cringed and Harley tensed, eyes turning wary as he looked at him. It made Tony wonder what kind of rules they had to deal with at home or in different foster homes. He had looked into their backgrounds lightly just to make sure they didn't have a record or have done anything bad. Everything about them kind of made sense now about them being orphans and sticking together as if they were actually brothers.

"Nothing bad, just don't want you two getting hurt," Tony added. "You two will be spending most of your time here in the main part of the lab." He gestured around the room that was mainly workbenches and tools with his Iron Man suits in the corner. He saw Peter's and Harley's eyes lingering on the suits and he made a mental note to have them tear apart one of the older busted marks. "Back there," he gestured through a half-glass wall, "is more of a chem lab. There's a shit ton of chemicals back there so make sure to wear gloves and goggles and crap if I need you to get something or you want to mess around. I'll have Friday watch to make sure you're not doing anything stupid or dangerous."

The two were nodding along to what he was saying so Tony continued, heading over to where Dum-E was charging with a slight grin. "Now this is Dum-E." The bot chirped at his name and Peter grinned at him while Harley looked at the bot curiously. "I know I mentioned him on Monday and you saw him moving around and stuff but I thought that you three should properly meet, along with U. Dum-E's kind of my assistant. He gets me the tools and materials I need. Also, watch out, he has some weird fetish with putting oil or knuts and bolts in my coffee so don't accept one from him. He also loves to run around blasting me with a fire extinguisher, so make sure he doesn't see you testing something out. I can't tell you how many times I've had to wash out an old Iron Man mark because he thought I was on fire."

Tony rolled his eyes fondly, patting Dum-E on the head before walking over to U. "U is the better half of the two." Dum-E whirred angrily and Tony glared at him. "Uh uh, you don't get to be like that. Remember the last time you made me a smoothie?" Dum-E stopped for a few seconds before lowering his claw and beeping apologetically. Tony just kept looking at him suspiciously before turning back to U. "As I was saying, U doesn't make the messes that Dum-E does because he's usually cleaning those up. He also likes to record me with that little camera of his, so don't look at the memory. It probably has a lot of incriminating footage on it."

U bounced his camera happily and Tony gave him a pat as well before walking over to a singular door. He pushed it open and led Peter and Harley into the room full of empty shelves. "Now, onto what we're doing today. Pepper's sick of me, or her, tripping over things in the lab so she's having me organize everything and store some of the older projects. You two lucky kids get to help me with that!" Tony smirked at the two and went back out to the lab before gesturing toward a large pile of boxes. "This is what we'll be organizing."

Peter's and Harley's jaws dropped. " _Porca vacca_!" Peter exclaimed. Tony smirked slightly at the slip of Italian. He hadn't looked into the kid's family much, but his hot aunt looked Italian so he probably learned it from her before she died.

"I've collected a lot of junk over the years," Tony said simply. Both boys' stupefied faces turned to him. "Well, chop-chop."

* * *

After a few hours of meticulously sorting electronics and hardware, Tony led Peter and Harley to the penthouse where they reheated their pizza and finished watching _The Iron Giant_.

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Tony smiled, turning as the lab doors opened to reveal Peter and Harley in casual wear, no dress shirts or black jeans to be seen. They looked tired but Peter was still sporting a grin and was bouncing in place, probably excited to begin their project. It had been three weeks since Peter and Harley started the internship, and other than missing a Friday or two for when they got grounded for missing curfew, the two hadn't missed a single day. Tony had mostly had them helping him out with the arc-reactor powered car and some other SI projects, but after Pepper scolded him about getting them to work on their competition project, they were finally getting started on it.

"Hey, _bambinos_ ," Tony greeted. He didn't know when he started calling the two boys Italian nicknames reserved for children, but it was a part of their routine, now. Actually, now that he thought about it, he's pretty sure that he began speaking in Italian around the two after they had a hushed conversation in the language about some sort of suit and patrol. A little weird but Tony shrugged it off. The two kids were nerds. Well, Peter was, but Harley might as well have been an honorary one with how knowledgable he was no matter the way he dressed.

"Who's excited to reconstruct PISS?" Peter turned bright red at the casual use of the acronym and he ducked his head, groaning into his hands. Harley snickered, dropping his backpack onto the couch. A few seconds later, Peter followed suit while fixing his glasses, muttering under his breath. Tony was itching to give the kid a pair of the glasses he made (they weren't just for show, you know, he was getting old, after all) but considering how the kid reacted when Tony cleared off a workbench for him (hint: he spluttered a lot and turned as red as a cherry tomato), he was going to wait until Peter's thick-framed glasses broke. They were seriously an eyesore.

Perhaps he could just... give the glasses a little nudge. Off the table. Under his shoe.

"What are we going to work on first?" Harley asked quietly, hands in his pockets as he strode up to where Tony was sitting at the main workbench. Harley still didn't speak much, but he had gotten out of his shell after a few weeks of Tony carefully coaxing him out of it (by making really bad puns and jokes like Peter did).

"Well, I took some initiative and drafted up some blueprints," Tony said before glancing at them. "I hope you don't mind?" He was oddly nervous for some reason. Tony usually took someone's idea before drafting a blueprint or product and then presenting it to them. Now, though, he hoped he wasn't stepping over a line. He _was_ supposed to be mentoring them over this, after all, not doing everything for them.

Thankfully, Harley just shook his head, instead choosing to eye up the blueprints Tony had on one of his holo-screens. Peter padded up behind them, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother as he leaned against the table, looking at the screen with wide eyes. Tony took a few seconds to examine the two boys.

Despite the eye bags under their eyes, they looked much healthier than they had on their first day of the internship. Their cheeks weren't as hollowed and their sweaters didn't seem as loose on them. They were, however, still pretty skittish and more or less refused to stand any closer than two arms lengths away from him. Peter often flinched when Tony dropped a wrench (he was still working on the loud noises thing) or something on the ground or the metal table and both cringed away from touch.

He could sympathize with the two. Tony didn't seek out affection and he sometimes reacted badly to sudden loud noises.

Shaking off his thoughts, Tony turned to the two boys. "So, what d'you think?"

Harley just nodded slowly. "I like it." Peter grinned.

* * *


	6. the spider's out of the bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write! I literally had no idea what I was gonna write for this and then once I hit mid-chapter, I couldn't figure out what to do. I literally spent three days deleting and rewriting the same three-hundred words! I hope you liked and that it doesn't seem like I skipped too much.

* * *

Harley looked over the cityscape from his perch on top of one of the taller buildings in Queens, searching the area for any signs of trouble. Tonight was particularly eventful with five muggings, two armed robberies, one regular robbery, and him walking a few drunk girls home. Why those girls decided to go to a party and walk home in the middle of February, he had no idea. He was just glad that he was there to make sure they got home safe.

Pulling out his phone, Harley checked the time. It was nearing one in the morning and he should be heading back, he couldn't break his own rules. Peter had been obsessed with Spider-Manning when they started and had ended up staying up days at a time, running himself into the ground. It was only when Peter came back with a broken arm due to falling off a building in exhaustion did Harley set the curfew at two in the morning. He would have preferred having the curfew earlier but he couldn't deny that three hours wasn't enough to be out.

Being Spider-Man was a thrill, swinging through the air, webbing up bad guys, the validation of knowing he saved a person, a life. Harley couldn't save his mom and little sister, but he could save someone else's mom or little sister, or even someone's aunt and uncle.

But still, it was almost one and Peter was probably still up, making sure that he got home safely. Peter almost always refused to sleep just in case Harley never came home. Peter had some sort of separation anxiety, or maybe it was just regular anxiety, Harley didn't know, and he got anxious and nervous and worried when Harley was away from him for too long. All he knew was that when Peter attached to him, he refused to let go.

Harley stood from his crouch and stretched, flinging out a web almost lazily and dropping off the building. He flew toward the ground before he swung up in an ark, his other arm already outstretched and flinging a web at a building. This happened over and over again before the web that was attached to a billboard thinned and snapped, Harley's spidey-sense stinging the back of his neck sharply. He threw out his hand in a panic, not caring what it stuck to so long as he wasn't careening toward the ground. His arm jolted in pain as the other web caught and Harley was a second too late to realize that he was too close to the building his web attached too.

Maneuvering midair, Harley barely managed to not hit the wall full-force, but his leg caught the edge of the building, his knee slamming into it. He let go of the web, falling to the ground in a roll as he wrapped his arms around his knee. Harley bit his lip and clenched his jaw tightly as the pain rocked up through his shoulder and spiraled through his knee. After a few seconds of heavy breathing and tense silence, the pain slowed down into a sharp throb.

It took a few seconds to work up the courage to stand and Harley teetered into the wall as his leg nearly buckled beneath his wait. " _Cazzo_ ," he cursed under his breath as his injured shoulder slammed into the wall. Breathing out a hiss, Harley raised his head to look at where he was located. He recognized his surroundings, but just barely. He had gone in a circle as he swung back to Dan's apartment and only now realized how far away he was. It would take almost twenty minutes of swinging to get back and probably nearly an hour of walking with the way his leg was throbbing in pain.

Harley sighed. There was only one thing to do and that was to call Peter.

He pulled out his phone and clicked on Peter's contact, the phone ringing for a few seconds before Peter's voice echoed out of the speakers in a rush. " _Quello che è successo?_ " The words tumbled out of Peter's mouth half-coherent and it took Harley a second to realize that the words were spoken in Italian. It made him wince. The only time Peter would revert to Italian is if he was anxious or was worried that something bad happened. _Well, he's not wrong_.

"I ran out of webs," Harley said, trying and failing to keep the pain out of his voice. His words were too strained and clipped to sound normal.

"What happened?" Peter echoed his earlier words, the sounds of him getting out of bed and probably getting dressed in his Spider-Man suit echoing in the background.

"Clipped my knee and I think I dislocated my shoulder." Harley moved his shoulder and winced, biting his lip. "Definitely dislocated." Peter cursed but Harley wasn't too worried about it. His shoulder and leg should be completely healed by the end of tomorrow. He would have to take it easy in gym, though.

"Where are you?" Peter asked. His words were covered by the sound of wind and Harley assumed that he was on the roof of the apartment. Harley looked around for a sign or a landmark that Peter would recognize. His eyes caught the sight of one of the smaller buildings.

"'M near the old theater," he murmured, slinking back into the shadows as a car went down the street. It would be a bad idea if someone caught him (Spider-Man) grounded and on the phone. He was confident of his ability to get out of a fight with these injuries, but he wasn't keen on getting even more hurt. "The one near that one billboard with the puppies on it."

"Got it." The phone went dead and Harley kept alert for any signs of danger. He was going to wait for Peter to find him before deciding to pop his shoulder back in. It's not that he couldn't do it himself, it's just that he thought that it'd be better if someone else were to pop it back in for him. He's had to do it for Peter a few times, his brother being the more reckless of the two and often running into buildings while not paying attention.

It didn't take long to catch the _thwip thwip thwip_ of Peter's webshooters. "Over here," Harley called out to Peter when he got close and Peter dropped down quickly with a bundle of clothes tied to him. His movements were jittery and frantic as he looked over Harley for injuries. "You gotta help me pop it back in." Peter winced and Harley didn't have to see his face to know that he was grimacing.

"I got you a set of clothes," Peter murmured. "Can't let people see Spider-Man carrying Spider-Man, can we?" Despite the pain that made his shoulder and knee throb, Harley's mouth quirked in a smile.

"Smart." Peter rolled his eyes and helped Harley strip, tossing the suit to the side as he helped him pull pants on. "We're gonna have to pop in your shoulder before putting your shirt on." Peter winced and Harley knew he felt sorry as his hands tentatively circled around the injury.

"Just do it, it's freezing out here." Harley was already shivering his teeth were beginning to chatter. He was glad that he typically wore a set of blue or red tennis shoes while Spider-Manning but they were doing nothing while half-buried in the snow. Peter hesitated for a second more before pulling Harley's arm forward, his shoulder popping in place swiftly. Harley gasped sharply in pain and bit his lip so hard that it split his lip. He would have fallen into the snow if it wasn't for Peter holding him up. Peter was whispering apologies as he slipped Harley's shirt and jacket on, using a long-sleeved shirt like some sort of sling.

"It's fine," Harley ground out, breathing slowly through the pain as he licked his bloody lip. After a few seconds, he straightened up, leaning against the wall. Peter picked up Harley's now cold and damp suit and put it in a grocery bag, attaching it to his belt. It didn't take long to get Harley onto his back in a way that wouldn't hurt him too much while he moved. It was a good thing both of them were 'sticky' so technically, Harley didn't have to wrap his arms around Peter. They could just stick to one another.

The trip back to the apartment was spent with shorter web swings, Peter throwing them into the air to conserve the last of his webbing. He would have to see if they had time in chemistry to make it. If not, Peter will have to see if he can use some of the cleaners around the house. Most of them had the chemicals needed to make webbing. They wouldn't work as well as the webs he has now, but they'd be useful until Peter could make more proper webbing.

Peter landed on the roof of the building lightly, rolling from his toes to his heel and bending his knees. Harley grunted slightly in pain and Peter winced in sympathy. He had been in this same exact situation more times than he cared to admit and it hurt to see Harley in the same position. "I'm gonna crawl down to the window. You think you can crawl in?"

Harley shifted on Peter's back and winced in pain. It still hurt but he could make it into the window unassisted. "Yeah, I'm good." Peter crawled down the side of the apartment building swiftly, making sure to stay out of sight of the windows. It would be a really bad idea to be seen crawling down an apartment building, especially by the building's occupants with Harley, who some would recognize, clinging to him. Identifying which window was theirs was easy since Peter left it open in his haste to get to Harley.

Once Peter stopped moving, Harley unlatched himself from him and crawled through the window. He just laid on the bed once he crawled through, the window perfectly placed between the two beds. Peter crawled through the window after him, clinging to the top of the bed and closing the window behind him. He swiftly shucked his own suit and tossed his and Harley's onto the floor to dry out later, instead pulling on the pair of sweats and long-sleeved shirt he had on before he left.

Harley was half-asleep already and Peter took it upon himself to grab the icepacks from the freezer. Peter had bought them a little after they started Spider-Manning having deemed them important for injuries. Especially for how many times he flew into walls during his first few weeks of web-slinging and either broke his nose or bruised himself.

After setting the icepacks on Harley's shoulder and knee, Peter grabbed their suits. He fiddled with the webshooters and frowned when he saw the web cartridges. Some were cracked and when he touched them, web fluid stuck to his fingers. That would explain why they didn't realize they were running low on webbing until the web literally snapped. Peter checked his webshooters and saw that some of his cartridges were leaking, as well. After fiddling with the webshooters, he saw that the spinneret that thinned and pushed out the web was loose. That meant that an excess of web was sometimes being pushed out while some of the webbing got stuck in the device, stopping it from working properly.

Peter would have to tinker with them sometime later with Harley.

* * *

Peter muffled a yawn as he mixed the webbing solution, occasionally looking through the lab window to keep an eye on Mr. Stark so he could pack away his webs before he could see. The man had seen Harley fiddling with some extra parts while working on a sensor prototype a week or so ago and had told them that they could use the workshop and lab to tinker after they did their homework (Ms. Potts made sure that they did it after that first day) and completed the day's work for their project.

Technically, Peter was still working on his part of the project. He was messing with the webbing formula he used to make the fabric for their competition project (now renamed to PAIN--Pressure and Injury Navigation, which was deemed a fitting name although Mr. Stark wanted to keep PISS as its name) while also creating more webbing. And since Mr. Stark said that they were allowed to tinker with junk materials or screw around in the lab (safely, of course), he technically wasn't even stealing! It still kinda felt like it, though, especially since Peter was kind of lying to Mr. Stark about what he was doing and Mr. Stark wasn't getting anything in return for the chemicals used.

He yawned again, tired. Peter had spent most of last night making sure Harley was okay and replacing the ice when it melted. There were also the nightmares he got almost every time he fell asleep, so the rest he did get was marred and restless. Harley had better luck sleeping, surprisingly, though his leg and shoulder were still paining him. It had healed some during the night, though a full day of walking (and not to mention running around for hockey, which they had moved onto in gym) had made it swell some. His shoulder was doing better since you can move dislocated shoulders usually after a few days of it being in a sling, but he still had to be careful with it. The color around Harley's shoulder was discolored and it ached fiercely, but he could just wear his bag on the opposite shoulder.

MJ had noticed it with a raised eyebrow and Ned didn't seem to notice. Harley was sure that MJ knew _something_ about them, whether or not it was the abuse or the Spider-Manning, he didn't know. It could be both. Peter was sure that MJ didn't know anything. She was always like that; observant. Not that he really noticed, though. No. It wasn't like he _looked_ at her all the time or anything. Nope. No sir.

For the third time in a span of five minutes, Peter yawned. His eyes closed and his tilted up for a second. He jerked it back easily, however, and opened his eyes. He set the tube back down and continued stirring, turning the heat off on the bunsen burner. Usually, he would have to heat the formula slowly over a full day, but he managed to change a few of the ingredients so it would take three hours tops to make the formula. Just as he was putting the webs into small plastic test tubes he bought, the door opened.

Mr. Stark leaned against the door frame. "Hey, kid, working hard?"

Peter nodded and held out a folded slap of the formula he had been drying in a thin layer in a container. Mr. Stark took it dubiously and his brows rose when he unfolded it. The material was insanely flexible and Peter only used the modified nonsticky web formula instead of weaving in a lot of other web formulas. It was also smooth because it wasn't weaved (though that would probably make it stronger) and folded like a piece of cloth.

"When did you make this?" Mr. Stark asked, walking further into the lab.

"I made the formula on Monday and I let it sit until I came back today. I'm not sure if I let it sit too long without washing it with hydroxydibenzofuran. It may be too brittle..." Mr. Stark nodded.

"Yeah, that could be a problem," he sympathized. He set the cloth to the side. "We can test this later, and I still want the formula for this, but pizza's here." Peter turned to begin cleaning up and Mr. Stark stopped him. "You can do that later, you've got to be hungry."

On cue, Peter's stomach growled. Mr. Stark smirked slightly. "Come on." Peter set down the beaker he grabbed and followed Mr. Stark out of the room. Harley was still fiddling with what Peter recognized to be one of their web-shooters when they came towards him. 

* * *

Tony stretched and checked the clock, eyebrows raising in surprise. Harley and Peter had left a few hours ago and it was now one in the morning.

 _"Boss, I believe that you should go to bed,"_ Friday said softly.

"I will," he told her with an eye roll. Pepper had somehow managed to convince Friday to check up on him and more or less make him go to bed with her continuous check-ins. "Let me just clean up a little." Tony hadn't thought anything of the mess he made in the lab, but after Pepper more or less made him clean the lab after he sprained his ankle by tripping over something while tired (to which he shamelessly roped his interns into helping him with), he was now used to keeping it clean. He wanted to keep it tidy, not just for him or Pepper's state-of-mind, but for Harley and Peter. He didn't want them to get hurt.

Tony didn't bother touching their workstations. They tended to keep them clean though there was a little device on Harley's table that he had been working on after finishing a few sensors for his project. Tony couldn't tell what it was, a shock to him, so he put away the wrench he had and wiped his hands off, walking over to it.

He turned it over in his hand and noticed a little cartridge attached to it. The device looked finished, it was just a little rough around the edges, so Tony slid it onto his wrist. It was a little tight, obviously meant for Harley's wrists, though it held comfortably. Fiddling with the way it sat, Tony turned it around so that a little metal lever sat in his palm. He pressed against it in curiosity and jumped when a puff of air squealed out. Looking at the little cartridge again, Tony surmised that something was supposed to be in it that the device threw out.

Frowning, Tony wandered why this seemed familiar. He slid the device off his wrist and looked it over again though nothing about it looked familiar. He set it back on the workstation and cleaned the rest of his workstation off before remembering that Peter didn't get a chance to clean off the counter in the chemical lab. It wasn't the kid's fault, Tony was the one who dragged him out of the lab to eat.

He sighed and headed into the lab, grabbing a rag to wipe off the counter. He picked up a beaker and went to set it down, only it stuck to his hand. Tony grabbed the beaker with his other hand and pulled it away, watching in curiosity as some sort of white sticky goo strung between his hand and the beaker. Wait, not goo. Tony looked closer and pulled at the string. Webbing.

"Hey, Fri, get me everything you can find about this webbing. Send it to the screens at my workbench."

_"Yes, boss._ _"_

Tony set the beaker aside and cleaned up the rest of the room and sat down at his workbench, flicking through the various pages Friday brought up for him.

"Spider-Man?"

 _"Yes, boss. Spider-Man is a new vigilante that appeared in Queens approximately eleven months and seven days ago. Abilities observed appear to be super strength, agility, senses, and technology used appears to be synthetic webbing with the help of a device on his wrists. He was also the person in charge of capturing the alien weapons supplier called 'the Vulture' when he tried to steal--"_

Tony waved his hand around to get her to stop, murmuring, "Yeah, yeah, yeah" louder. That wasn't one of his best moments. He had received an anonymous tip about someone trying to steal his items and he had set Happy on the case. Happy, who had had someone hack into his phone and call him about the weapons. Happy had just brushed it off as a prank by Tony playing as a kid. Tony shook his head and focused on the articles, his suspicions growing.

There were articles from various news sources; The New York Times, Buzzfeed, The Daily Bugle. Tony wrinkled his nose at the article about "Queens's New Menace" that J. Jonah Jameson published on the Bugle and flicked the hologram away, making a mental note to make sure none of its reporters showed up at any press conferences. The Bugle was more of a menace than Spider-Man appeared to be.

The next screen flick brought on a YouTube video with the title 'Spider-Man catches car'. The video started playing and Tony whistled when Spider-Man caught the car. It must have been going forty miles an hour and with a quick bit of mental math, he estimated that it equaled a total of five and a half tons. That was eleven thousand pounds.

"Damn, the kid's strong." Tony looked over at the beaker that he placed next to what he assumed was a webshooter. "Or kids, I guess."

He ran his hands through his hair as he sat down. Peter and Harley were fifteen-years-old. _Fifteen_. And they were doing this shit? They could get themselves killed. And he honestly couldn't see them being this vigilante that helped old ladies cross the street and got cats out of trees (and catch cars with their _bare hands_ ). The two kids were skittish and flinched when he moved too dramatically or made loud noises. Harley had literally flinched when he touched his shoulder!

Tony frowned. Maybe it wasn't him just touching him, maybe Harley hurt his shoulder? Tony sook his head. He can't just assume that the two kids were the Spider-Man (Spider-Men?) of Queens.

* * *

Peter and Harley froze when Tony displayed the picture of Spider-Man catching a car. "So, you two are the Spiderling? The crime-fighting spider. Spider-Boy?"

"It's Spider-Man," Peter murmured before he slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening even more. Harley sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Dammit, Peter."

Tony smirked.

* * *


	7. Note

Okay, just a real quick note.

First, I want to let you know I _am_ currently working on a new chapter for this fic, so don't think I forgot about it. A lot of crap's been happening with corona and everything and I haven't had the urge to write for bit.

And second, **I'm going to remove the last chapter** , or at least the part where Tony find out they're Spider-Man. I'm going to keep the first part after editing a bit of it. Um, Tony finding out about them being Spidey doesn't really go with the story at all and I think I only wrote it because I couldn't think of something else to write. So, yeah.

I'll leave a note on the new chapter just in case.


	8. sorry?

This is going to come across as a _big_ disappointment to you all, but I've decided to rewrite this fic. I haven't really liked what I've written for the last few chapters and I don't feel comfortable giving you a work where I don't feel like I'm doing my best in. There are so many details that I completely ignored or skipped over and I'm a little disappointed in myself for just ignoring something because it was difficult to write.

That said, I am going to leave it up until I've got at least the first or second chapter of the new fic finished.


	9. the new first chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back after a little bit of writer's block! So, I'm posting the first chapter of the "rewrite" here because I want to see how you all like it. I kinda just want to see if you like the new format and everything and if you like what I've changed and if you're okay with the changes. If I get an overwhelming amount of comments saying you prefer the older version, I might just do a mass edit and purge some chapters and I'll continue that (maybe, it's not really a promise, per se, I'm kinda liking the new format so far).
> 
> I also want to let you guys know that I'm kinda interested in posting an open-ended work with all of my prompts or WIP/unlikely-to-be-posted-unless-I-get-a-shit-ton-of-requests works that I'm working on. The older version of this will be posted there as a few chapters if you prefer that idea. Also, this'll let you know what ideas I'm working on and it'll let me know if you want me to continue and idea or not.

the beginning

* * *

Peter tapped his fingers against his desk in boredom as he looked out the window. He watched as a bird pecked at a branch before spreading its wings and flying off. His eyes followed it until he caught the sight of the distant skyscrapers of Manhattan. He could spot Stark Industries Tower in the distance, half-hidden behind various buildings but still managing to appear large and imposing. It was no longer sporting the Avengers ‘A’ on it. Mr. Stark had rebranded the tower a little after what happened during Homecoming, so instead, it now had ‘Stark Industries’ going down its side. It was the new headquarters for SI.

He had to admit, in the enlightenment of the ‘Avengers Civil War’ as the news deemed it, Peter was liking the rebrand. He was also hoping that Mr. Harrington could somehow get the Decathlon team a tour of it. He _did_ manage to get them a tour at Oscorp, after all, and it was only a tier or two below Stark Industries.

(If you had asked him two years ago, Peter would have said that their biochemical engineering and progress on limb regeneration made them equal with Stark Industries’s green energy and neurological prosthesis engineering, but he kind of changed his mind after the whole got-bitten-by-a-spider-and-nearly-died episode. And even though he and Harley became Spider-Man out of it, he was a little bitter. That and the whole Green Goblin fiasco a month or so ago. He and Harley both got hurt in that one..)

A quick nudge to his foot had Peter looking over at Harley, who in turn nodded to Mrs. Warren. Peter swiftly picked up his pencil as he glanced in the woman’s direction. Her gaze was scanning the classroom and he looked down and began to write just as he felt her eyes befall him and Harley. The back of his neck prickled slightly for a few seconds before she moved on.

They were completing a worksheet on Pendulums, but he almost completed it already. Pendulum swings were something that Peter did on an almost daily basis. He was out six days a week, three days and three nights. He continued to finish the worksheet, however, since he knew that Mrs. Warren would comment on it otherwise. His previous days not paying attention in class undoubtedly left some trust issues.

Harley nudged his foot again after a few more minutes and he looked up. Harley tapped his wrist and Peter checked the time, practically sighing in relief. There were only five minutes of class left. A small smirk tilted Harley’s lips up on one side and Peter rolled his eyes. It’s not like Harley wasn’t waiting for class to end, too. It was too bad that lunch happened after the next period. Still, Spanish class wouldn’t be too difficult. He had practically grown up speaking Italian with May and Spanish wasn’t too far off.

Mrs. Warren gathered the attention of the class a minute or so before the class ended, instructing them to complete the worksheet over the weekend for homework. Peter shook his head and put his completed worksheet in his folder. This stuff was easy, AP Physics or not.

Although they knew it was coming, Peter and Harley still flinched when the bell rang. It was a sharp, high-pitched thing that grated on their ears for the three seconds that it rang for.

As they started to grab their stuff and leave, Mrs. Warren’s voice stopped them. “Peter, Harley, can you two hang back for a few moments?”

Peter could hear Flash snigger as he walked out the door, sending him a snide look. Peter knew that the only reason he sent the glare was due to the fact that Harley wasn’t looking in his direction. The last time Flash messed with him, Harley had gotten suspended for a few days. Dan had nearly beaten Harley bloody but Harley claimed that it was worth it when Peter helped him set his arm later that night.

While Peter was wary of using his newfound powers to protect himself; from bullies or otherwise, Harley had no qualms over doing so.

After nodding to Mrs. Warren, Peter warily shoved his Physics folder in his backpack and headed to the front desk with Harley. Everyone was out of the classroom at this point and Peter knew that this period was Mrs. Warren’s break so no one should be coming here at all.

“U-Um… Mrs. Warren?” Peter stuttered quietly. “Are-Are we in trouble?”

Mrs. Warren shook her head with a smile, saying, “No, I just wanted to speak with the both of you about something.” She held out a packet and Peter took it while Harley looked over his shoulder.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Stark Industries?” he questioned, looking up from the packet. Mrs. Warren was now beaming.

“Yes, Stark Industries is having a competition at their company for high school-aged interns,” the woman said kindly. “I was told to hand these packets out to the students I believed deserved them. The two of you can compete together for a chance that both of you will get the internship.”

“Us?” Harley said quietly, the stops and waivers that Peter had nowhere to be heard in his voice.

“Of course,” Mrs. Warren said. “Both of you may have had some poor attendance a few months ago, but you’re both the top of your class. And I know for a fact that you two are capable of producing the technology that Stark Industries is looking for. I’ve seen the workshop projects you two turned in a few days ago for the end of the semester. They’re very intuitive and creative, your potato gun included, Harley.”

Peter blushed at the praise and he could see Harley smiling sheepishly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Warren,” Peter whispered, ducking his head. He looked down at the two-page packet in his hands. His eyes lingered on the _Guardian Signature_ line. He wasn’t sure if Dan would approve of them participating, and even if he did, there wasn’t a way for them to buy any materials to use. They didn’t even have the proper tools to use other than a few screwdrivers and a pair of pliers, not to mention any materials.

Apparently following Peter’s line of thought, Harley asked, “Do we have to buy the materials ourselves?”

Mrs. Warren, knowing that they couldn’t exactly afford materials, nodded sympathetically. “Sadly, the school doesn’t have enough funds to cover everyone’s projects and provide the materials you guys use in the workshop. However, you are permitted, as everyone else who is competing is, to use the workshop’s tools and materials bought in bulk; such as wiring and screws, as well as the computer lab for coding.”

Harley pursed his lips and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Warren,” he said quietly _._

“You boys don’t have to say ‘yes’ right away, okay?” Mrs. Warren said. “Take some time, talk to your foster parent about it. The competition is a full month away, there’s plenty of time to whip a prototype of something up.” They nodded. “Good, let me just write you some hall passes and you two can head to class.”

Mrs. Warren swiftly filled out two passes and signed them before handing them to over. Peter and Harley took them and left, walking down the silent halls to their next class.

“How hard do you think it’s going to be to convince Dan to let us compete?” Peter asked softly. He didn’t have to speak very loud for Harley to hear him since they had super hearing. Harley frowned and shrugged, eyes flickering over the first page of the form that Peter let him look at.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I’m more worried about getting the items needed.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. “I-I mean… We can dumpster dive,” he suggested with a shrug. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” Harley snorted at Peter’s casual reference to their junk-built web-shooters. It was the only tech-related thing they created at the apartment, not including Peter’s duct-taped laptop that both of them used for school work and the broken tablet they found and hadn’t found the time to fix yet.

“Will he let us, though?” Peter whispered after a few seconds. Harley whirled in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Chin up, Parker,” Harley said with a reassuring smile. “Listen, he’ll let us, alright? It’s not like he _has_ to know that we have to get our own materials. So stop worrying, _capisci_?” Peter smiled at the casual use of Italian. Harley had once overheard him muttering to himself in Italian a little after he was put in the same foster home, so Peter had been spending their free time teaching him how to speak the language. It was a good way to past the time before they began going out as Spider-Man.

“ _Si_ , I understand,” Peter murmured back. They continued walking for another few minutes before Peter stopped outside of his next classroom. “ _Ci vediamo a pranzo con_ Ned _e_ MJ _.”_

Harley squinted for a few seconds as he translated the words to English. “Uh, that means ‘see you at lunch’, right…?” he asked hesitantly. Peter smiled proudly. Harley knew various words and verbs in Italian, though he was still learning how to string together sentences with the proper conjugation, as well as translating them.

“’With Ned and MJ’,” Peter finished, nodding his head.

Harley grinned. “ _Ho capito bene_!” he exclaimed.

“You did get it right,” Peter agreed as Harley headed down the hallway.

Just as Harley rounded the corner, someone said from behind him, “Mr. Parker, as much as I admire your ability to speak Italian, this is Spanish and you’re late.” Peter jumped and spun around, his face burning.

“ _Lo siento, Señor_ ,” he apologized, easily switching to Spanish as he held out his hall pass. “I-I got held back in Physics.” Señor Mendez just lifted a brow and took the pass, waving him off to his seat. As he took his seat, Peter could hear snickering from down the hall. He narrowed his eyes, easily recognizing the person it came from.

* * *

“You’re mean,” Peter huffed as he sat down beside Harley at lunch. Harley just smirked at him and took a bite out of his apple.

“What’d he do?” Ned asked. Peter just continued to scowl at Harley.

“He got caught speaking Italian to me in the hall when he was supposed to be in Spanish,” Harley simply said.

“You two didn’t try to skip again, did you?” MJ piped up from where she sat a few seats away.

Harley scoffed while Peter grumbled a “No.”

“Then what were you doing in the halls?” she asked them, an eyebrow raised as she looked up from her book.

“Mrs. Warren held us back to talk about some competition at Stark Industries.” Ned gasped, drawing Peter and Harley’s attention to him. MJ just shook her head and refocused on her book, ignoring them. Ned rifled through his bag for a few seconds before brandishing a familiar two-page packet.

“You two got one, too?!” he said a little too loudly, drawing the attention to them from the other tables.

“Shh!” Peter hushed him as Harley took out their paper, their names already filled out in the _Student’s Name_ and _Student’s Signature_ sections. “Yeah, we got one, too!”

“So you guys are going to compete?” Ned asked, bouncing in place as he pulled out a notebook, various ideas jotted down on it. Peter and Harley nodded, leaning forward to look at Ned’s notebook as he slid it toward them.

“You already know what you’re going to do?” Harley asked, surprised, as he looked over the sketch of a small drone-looking robot.

Ned nodded enthusiastically. “You know how SI still provides the army, and sometimes the police, with tech? Well, I was kind of thinking of a small drone or something for search and retrieve missions.”

“That’s a cool idea,” Harley commented. “What are you thinking of building into it?”

Ned shrugged. “Maybe a thermal camera or something? It’s mainly going to be a small rover thing type of thing. Soldiers could probably use it to search for landmines or something so they don’t get hurt. I’m kind of tempted to build something like R2D2, though..”

Peter smiled at the Star Wars reference before narrowing his eyes as an old idea flickered through his mind. He pulled out one of his notebooks and flipped through the pages, looking for something he wrote down a while ago. He hadn’t come up with any good ideas throughout Spanish, especially since he wasn’t sure if Dan was going to let them compete or not, despite Harley’s assurances that he would, but Ned actually reminded him of something that he had thought of a few months ago after what happened during Homecoming night.

Harley leaned over to read the scribbles as he began to jot down ideas and chemical compounds on a page with a few details already written down on it.

“A pressure sensor?” Harley asked, puzzled.

Peter nodded, and after glancing at Ned and MJ, said, “Yeah, I-I, uh, came up with this idea a while ago after, um, reading something online? Basically, they’re sensors that should detect different injuries based on different pressure ratios?”

Harley blinked for a second and Peter hid a smile. Harley had easily come to the realization that he was thinking of a Spider-Man suit that could detect what injuries they had. He knew it was something that Harley would like. Harley wasn’t one to hide injuries like he himself was. Peter didn’t want Harley to worry, so he hid when he was hurt. Which was usually a stupid idea since Harley could see the injuries almost immediately.

“I like this idea,” Harley declared after a few seconds.

Peter snorted. “You would.”

“Would something like this work?” Harley asked after a few seconds of reading over Peter’s notes.

Peter waved his hand in a so-so motion. “I know how to make pressure sensors, they’re k-kinda simple,” he said. “All you need is a bit of foam, some wires, and a multimeter to catalog the pressure.”

Harley frowned. “We can’t just show up at a competition with a multimeter if sensors are this easy to make,” he said. Peter copied his expression.

“You’re right.” Harley looked smug for a few seconds before it fell as he looked at Peter’s notes. He pointed at a chemical compound.

“What’s this?”

“I was, uh...” Peter glanced at MJ, who was reading, and at Ned who sat across from them, scribbling out his own ideas, “thinking of putting the sensors on some sort of homemade Kevlar. W-We can’t just show up with cheap sensors and an old t-shirt.”

“It kinda looks like your...”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Harley nodded, taking the cue to keep quiet. “So the sensors themselves aren’t going to sell this thing if they’re so easy to make,” he said. “I’m better at coding than you, we can probably fix that tablet we have back at the apartment and I could make some sort of app that catalogs the pressure and translates it into different injuries.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Peter said. Harley snorted and Peter smiled cheekily.

* * *

That night, after completing their chores and making something for dinner, Dan returned from work. Peter and Harley shared glances as they heard Dan setting down his work stuff in his room. Peter was nervous about telling Dan about the competition tonight, but Harley had suggested telling him that night. The last time they had waited to tell Dan about something, he had kinda been angry.

During dinner was really the only time they had to speak with Dan. He worked long hours, probably in hopes of getting a promotion. They had to be quiet when doing their chores in the morning when leaving for school because he wouldn’t leave for work until after school started, and he didn’t get back from work until around eight or nine. And after he ate dinner, the rest of the time was _his_ time. Peter and Harley were to keep quiet and out of sight, less they aggravate him.

They’ve only made that mistake once or twice.

Dinner was a quiet affair and Peter felt like time was dragging on. The whole atmosphere just screamed tension and awkwardness, the only noises being their breathing, their cutlery scraping against their plates, and the occasional yell from their downstairs neighbor. Peter was, like, fifty percent sure the woman’s husband was abusive and he itched to break up some of their fights, but the next day he always saw them being lovey-dovey, so he wasn’t sure what to think.

“Sir?” Harley said, gaining Dan’s attention. Peter froze and looked at the two from beneath his eyelashes. He set his fork down and put his hands in his lap, fiddling with his sleeves.

“What?” Peter cringed backward at the man’s harsh tone.

“Our Physics teacher called us after class ended--”

“What did you do?” Dan was glaring at the two of them, undoubtedly certain that they had done something wrong.

“Nothing, sir!” Harley rushed to say. “She just called us to tell us about an internship opportunity.”

“An internship,” the man deadpanned. He set down his fork and stared at the two of them.

“Y-Yes, s-sir,” Peter jumped in, stumbling over his words in his anxiety. “Mrs. Warren, she’s our, uh, Physics teacher? She gave us a participation form for a competition at Stark Industries.

Dan paused visibly. “Stark Industries?” His eyes narrowed, switching between Peter and Harley. Peter swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “Th-The competition gives both of us the chance to win an i-internship.”

“A _chance_?”

“The school is letting us use the workshop and materials to work on our project, sir,” Harley said quickly, trying to win Dan over. “They’ll also provide transportation to Stark Industries Tower... Sir.”

“W-We’ll still be able to do our chores, sir,” Peter said. “A-And we c-can just stay back on days we don’t have Decathlon. W-We’re not too far from the school, either, so...”

“You two are competing?”

Peter ducked his head. “Yes, sir, but we need your signature.”

It was silent for a second and the couple below apparently sensed the awkward silence and began to fight again. Dan tapped the table as he thought their words over and Peter tugged at his hoodie sleeves, his heart practically beating out of his chest. He was sure that his heart didn’t even beat that fast when he was out as Spider-Man.

“Well?” Dan said suddenly, making Peter and Harley jump. “Are you going to get the damn form?”

Peter stood shakily, his chair scraping against the ground. When Dan didn’t admonish him right away, he scurried to his and Harley’s bedroom to grab the form out of Harley’s backpack. When he got back, Dan ripped the pen from his hand and signed the form, not even bothering to read the form over. He threw it back to Peter and he stood there for a second, still in shock.

“Sit down!” Dan told him. Peter flinched and sat down, blinking at the paper in his hands. He shared a glance with Harley. His foster brother was shocked, as well.

They were going to compete.

* * *

Later that night, Peter and Harley laid in their beds, wide awake as thoughts rushed through their mind. What if their invention wasn’t good enough? What if it wasn’t original? What if it didn’t _work_? Would they even be able to even _complete_ it?

And the one thought that kept coming back?:

_What if they won?_

* * *


End file.
